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Even in the days to come, when his name was anathema in the land, nobody ever charged that he would not go through with a comrade. There drifted to them presently the faint sound of a shot. It was followed by a second and a third. "The fight's on," cried Thursday. Billie's quirt stung the flank of his pony. Near the entrance to the cañon his companion caught up with him.
"She's the girl," Hawkins affirmed, his eyes everywhere but on Lorraine's face. "Brit Hunter's daughter they say." "They say? I am his daughter! How dare you take that tone, Mr. Hawkins? My home is at the Quirt. When you strike at the Quirt you strike at me. When you strike at me I am going to strike back. Since I came here two men have been killed and my father has been nearly killed.
"Iffen Kirby here hadn’t been to hand, Johnny would have skinned th’ Trinfan kid with his quirt—jus’ ’cause he dropped his purse outside th’ Jacks an’ th’ kid followed him to give it back. Johnny’s meaner than a drunk Injun these days. That’s Bible-swear truth, Rennie." "To lose a war makes a man bitter," Don Cazar said slowly. "Johnny was far too young when he ran away to join Howard.
Rab, she realized worriedly, could not slide up that narrow, rock-bottomed cleft down which he had coasted so readily. "They must be devil horses that ride this way, Rab," she sighed when she had remounted on the lower margin of the shale. "And the Lorrigans na doot have magic. But I dinna think that even they could run away down it." She struck Rab sharply with the quirt and dug in her heels.
But I insisted, and, like a good pony, he obeyed. I yelled at the cow, and slapped my bat, and used my quirt. When she had quite recovered her wind, she got slowly to her feet and charged me in a most determined manner. Now, a bull, or a steer, is not difficult to dodge. He lowers his head, shuts his eyes, and comes in on one straight rush.
Their hair is plaited over a frame into two enormous flat bands, curved like the horns of a mountain sheep and reënforced with bars of wood or silver. Each horn ends in a silver plaque, studded with bits of colored glass or stone, and supports a pendent braid like a riding quirt. On her head, between the horns, she wears a silver cap elaborately chased and flashing with "jewels."
"Lucy Bostil. An' don't you fergit thet. I'll bet she'll raise more trouble than Bostil when she hears what Joel Creech is tellin'. Fer she's bound to hear it. Van Sickle swears he's a-goin' to tell her an' then beat you up with a quirt." "He is, is he?" snapped Slone, darkly. "I've a hunch Lucy's guessed why you punched Joel. But she wants to know fer sure. Now, Slone, I'll tell her why."
Winifred stood across the room from him, her quirt in her hand switching restlessly at the carpet, her eyes showing a little sympathy for his illness but more anger at Buck Thornton. "You ask why I don't bring that man to reckoning, and I tell you that I am waiting. Then you ask, for what?"
Then Jean in the loge looked and saw screen Jean's mother kneeling before Bob's chair and sobbing so that her shoulders shook. She looked and saw screen Jean stop whistling and swinging her quirt; saw her stand still in the path and listen; saw the smile fade out of her eyes.
A moment the big man surveyed his trembling follower; then, taking a heavy quirt from his saddle, he said with a contemptuous sneer, "Well, why don't you get your drink?" "I ain't thirsty, Nick," faltered the other. "You ain't thirsty?" mocked the man with a jeering laugh. "You're lying, an' you know it. Get down!"
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