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Updated: August 8, 2024
"We all know how the sheriff's office is run in this county." This statement was made by Talleyrand Sylvester, who came thrusting through the jam of the hall into the fore-room. "Squire," he whispered, hoarsely, "I've brought down them quedaws as you told me to. They're outside. Say the word and we'll light on that old steer in the plug-hat!"
He kicked over the machine, and the scheme won't work now; it could have been snapped through, but it can't be bulled through not with the bunch forewarned and on the lookout. Your political chances with Vard Waymouth, Harlan, don't amount to that!" He clicked his finger smartly above his head. "You may as well go back up-country and boss the Quedaws."
"The folks up in the Jo Quacca Mountains will snicker in good shape when I tell 'em that Fightin' MacCracken let himself be dumped out of Duke Thornton's dooryard by a pack of lard-eating Quedaws," he sneered in the giant's ear. MacCracken swept away the first three men with swinging cuffs. He was thinking of his reputation at home. The taunt pricked him.
"There is such a thing as running the two on a double track," returned Mr. Thornton, serene but non-committal. He whirled on Sylvester, his mien that of the commander-in-chief disposing his forces in the face of the enemy: "Talleyrand, you'll find fifty more quedaws out there after Cobb takes his pick. Take them down to Aunt Charette's and have her set out her best.
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