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Updated: June 8, 2025
The old men's faces were bright with smiles; the eyes of the young ones sparkled with hope. 'But, after all, said Jeremiah, 'we've not told you particulars. Yo're thanking us for a pig in a poke; but we had more forethought, and we put all down on a piece o' paper.
They's a dugout tied up 'bout a hundred yards above the keel boat; you must get that to cross in to the other side of the bayou, then when yo're ready to come back yo're to whistle three times it's the signal we're expecting and I'll row across fo' you in one of the skiffs." "Can you see Miss Malroy in the meantime?" "If I want to, they's nothin' to hinder me," responded Bess sullenly.
'Ero Edwards, "yo're an 'Un, yo're an internal alien, thet's what's the metter with you. I wonder I 'aven't blacked yer eye for you many a time and oft." There was almost enough noise even for Jay, and she and Mrs. Love, each armed with a generously topped glass, sat in the background, on the shiny seat that lined the wall.
But he ain't got no right of making us miserable because he lost a few measly dollars." "Yo're wrong, son; dead, dead wrong," Buck replied. "He takes his beatings with a grin, an' money never did bother him. No poker game that ever was played could leave a welt on him like the one we all mourn, an' cuss.
"That dollar was for yore two drinks." "You mean to say yo're charging four bits apiece for those drinks!" "Shore I am." As yet the bartender's hand had remained beneath the bar top. "But two bits is the regular price," objected Racey, weakly. "Four bits is the price to you," was the truculent statement, sticking out his chin. "Put that bottle back on the bar!"
One thing, he knows the hunters wouldn't stand for it. They've got dust in their eyes right now gold-dust, chucked there by Carlsen, but if he'd butchered you he'd likely lose his grip on 'em. I think he would. I don't believe yo're in enny danger, Rainey, if you want to buckle in an' line up with the crowd. "As for me," he went on, his voice deepening, "I'm goin' to tell 'em to go plumb to hell.
"If I'd wanted to kill him I wouldn't 'a' plugged him in the arm, would I? That wouldn't 'a' been sensible." "You provoked this fraycas!" snarled Luke, disregarding Racey's point in a true lawyer-like way. "You " "Why, no, Luke, yo're wrong, all wrong," interrupted Swing Tunstall, leaning over the windowsill at Tweezy's back.
"If I ever get to even thinking that yo're laying for me, Bull, I'm liable to come a-askin' questions you can't answer. Yo're a bright young man, Bull, but you want to be careful how you strain yore intellect. You might need it some day. And if you want to keep on being mother's li'l helper, be good, thassall, be good." "Yo're worse'n a helldodger," affirmed Bull. "You got me sized up right.
When he rode in among the buildings of the 88 ranch his eyes were gratified by the sight of freckle-faced Bill Allen straddling a cracker-box in front of the bunkhouse and having his hair cut by Rod Rockwell. "That's right," Bill Allen was complaining, "whynell don't you cut off the whole ear while yo're about it?"
Yor Majesty! And 'Lias laid his head on one side and listened. In a few seconds a cunning smile stole over his lips. 'Wal, Davy, yo're in luck. He's noan so onwillin, we'st ha him here in a twinklin. Yo may coe him mony things, but yo conno coe him proud. Noa, as I've fund him, Charles Stuart has no soart o' pride about him. Aye, theer yo are! Sir, your Majesty's obleeged an humble servant!
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