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Updated: June 3, 2025
A log chain ain't made of wire an' them cuffs is all special steel." "They didn't file neither the chain nor the cuffs," explained Kansas, wearily. "They unlocked the cuffs." "Unlocked 'em, huh? Where'd they get the key? Lose one of yores, did yuh?" "Ours is all safe. They must 'a' had a key. Anyway, there's the handcuffs wide open when I found McFluke gone this mornin'."
"The odds," drawled Kid Wolf in a low tone, "are eight to five in theah favah. Tip, yo' take the man on the no'th. Scotty, yores is the hombre on the west, ridin' the pinto. Caldwell, take the south man, and yo', White, do yo' best with the gent ovah east." "How about those four by the fire?" whispered White. "I'm takin' them myself." The Texan smiled. "We must all work togethah.
The wood collapsed and the dazed land agent found himself sitting on the floor. "I'll get yuh for this, blast yuh!" gasped the major, his bloated face red with rage. "Yo're goin' to get yores, d'ye hear! I've got power here, and yore life ain't worth a cent!" "It's not in the mahket, eithah," the Texan drawled, as he strolled toward the door. At the threshold he paused.
Be keerful and doant make a fool of yourself and skeer the wimmin fokes. Respectfully yores, Josiah Klegg. Sol had plenty of time to study that dispatch out, and he not only sent word as desired, but he communicated the news to all who came to the station. The result was there was quite a crowd of friends there to greet the home-comers.
She did not feel very intimate yet with her father, but of course it might be different after he unbuttoned her and prayed her. Hence the formal invitation: "Dear farther you are respectably invited to put yore little girl to bed tonite at 1/2 past 7. Yores very truely Elizabeth. "R s v p. P.s. the little girl is me." It was all original except the "R s v p" and the fraction.
Johnson here, was a-watchin' yore corral alla time, so when you got a friend of yores to pull them two drummers into a poker game and then saddled yore hoss and went bustin' off in the direction of yore claim we got the marshal and trailed you." "You can't prove anything!" bluffed Mr. Pooley.
It was a lawless act and hadn't oughta happened. Marie, yo're a citizen of Farewell, and you'd oughta take an interest in the community instead of surging out and trying to massacre a visitor in our midst, a visitor who's figuring on settlin' hereabouts, I understand. Gawd knows we need all the inhabitants we can get, and it's just such tricks as yores, Marie, that discourages immigration."
Carlsen pulled trigger, and the bullet smashed through the skylight above them, while Rainey forced up his arm, twisting it fiercely with both hands until the gun fell on the seat. Simultaneously the girl and Lund appeared. "Gun-play?" rumbled the giant. "That'll be you, Carlsen! You're too fond of shooting off that gat of yores." Rainey had stepped back at the girl's exclamation.
Was it a foreman you wanted or a gunman? And what did Racey mean about Jack Harpe a-bearing down on you so hard, huh?" "Nothing, nothing, nothing a-tall," Lanpher replied, irritably. "If Racey didn't mean nothing by it, what did yore eyes flip for and why didja shuffle yore feet?" "Whatell business is it of yores?" burst out the goaded manager. "None," Alicran replied, calmly.
"You leave that gun alone, and lemme tell you, stranger, while we're together, that I want to buy that pup of yores. A gent like you ain't fit company for a self-respecting dog to associate with. Nawsir." "You got the drop," grumbled the burly youth. "Which is one on you," Racey observed, good-humouredly. "Maybe I'll be seein' you again," suggested the other.
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