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Updated: May 27, 2025
"Alexander McGivins," began the spokesman afresh, "we charges ye with these weighty matters; thet ye glories in callin' yoreself a he-woman refusin' ter accept God's mandate an' castin' mortification on yore own sex by holdin' on ter shameless notions. We charges ye with settin' ther example of unwomanly behavior before ther eyes of young gals, an' we aims ter make a sample of ye.
"Theah's no law," he said, "but justice. And some of these times, sah, yo' will meet up with it!" "I suppose yuh think yuh can hand it to me yoreself," leered the bandit leader. "I may," said Kid Wolf quietly. Garvey laughed loudly and contemptuously. "Yellow Skull!" he called. "Come here!" The man who strode forward with snakelike, noiseless steps was horrible, if ever a man was horrible.
"If the cayuse does happen to hit yore head, it won't hurt yore thick skull. G'on, Bill, be a sport." "Be a sport yoreself," returned Bill Allen, skipping into the bunkhouse. "Where's the other scissors? I'll finish this job myself." Racey, left alone with Rod Rockwell, smiled slightly. "Bill ain't got a sense of humour this mornin'," he observed, softly. "He must 'a' thought I meant it."
"Yo' all ain't quittin'?" Tex roused himself to ask. "Not over a little josh? Say, you're layin' yoreself wide open to more of the same. Yo' all wants to take it the way it's meant, Skyrider. Listen here, boy, if yo' all wants to git away from the ranch right now, why don't yo' all speak for to stay at Sinkhole camp?
Here's the true an' ondisputed owner of this claim the heiress of the Golden West, not to speak of bein' the only woman in this district an' entitled to the best that goes. See? Get down in thar, lady; Eph, you do yoreself the honor of escortin' her, an' read what it says on that thar stake. If it says Golden West an' is signed Tom Jones, that settles the matter, pronto."
"I don't know what ye're talkin' erbout," disclaimed young Doane with peppery heat. "I hain't got no more ter do with them fellers then what ye hev yoreself. What license hev ye got ter make slurs like them erginst me, anyhow?"
He heard Rowlett's reckless and noisy haste as he plowed into the laurel where he, too, might encounter death, and raising his voice in a feeble effort of warning he tried to shout out: "Heed yoreself, Bas ... hit's too late ter save me."
If you see him make any false moves " Doble watched him with a taunting, scornful eye. "What'll I do?" The other man's gaze fell. "Why, you got to protect yoreself, Dug, ain't you?" "How?" The narrow shoulders lifted. For a moment the small black eyes met those of the big man. "Whatever way seems best to you, Dug," murmured Steelman evasively. Doble slapped his dusty hat against his thigh.
He stumbled backward with some insane idea of running away. "No hurry, no hurry a-tall," gloated the tramp, enjoying the torture of this helpless captive who had walked into his hands. "I ain't goin' to hurt you none only make sure that you don't wander off an' hurt yourself while I'm gone. Won't do to let you be damagin' yoreself; you're valuable property. Trimm, now, I'll tell you wot we'll do!
I knowed he wasn't no good! I could see it in his eye; an' he wasn't drunk, not by a darn sight. Go out an' see for yoreself if they ain't gone!" he snapped in reply to Old John's look. "Go on out, while I throw some cold grub on the table won't have no time this morning to do no cooking.
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