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Ter hear ye a-jowin', a-body would think I had never shot nothin' likelier'n a yaller-hammer sence I been born. S'pos'n ye jes' takes ter goin' a-huntin', an' skinnin' deer, an' cuttin' wood, an' doin' my work ginerally. Pears-like ye think ye knows mo' 'bout'n my work'n I does. An' I'll bide hyar at the house." Mrs. Griggs nodded her head capably, in nowise dismayed.
You see, he's with Billy Tommy, and I know that Injun. Couldn't make him hurry if he tried, and he won't try. He'll be so busy shootin' things and skinnin' 'em and fussin' 'round camp that they'll get ahead mighty slow. Shouldn't wonder if it took 'em a week from the time they started to get to where Tommy left his canoe.
It did Shorty so much good to see Si squelched, that he chuckled aloud and called out: "Give it to him, old Snuff-Dipper. He's from the Wabash, an' hain't no friends. He's bin itchin' a long time for jest such a skinnin' as you're givin' him." "Who air y' callin' Snuff-Dipper?" she retorted, turning angrily on Shorty.
When they had turned into the road he spoke again to Carter, "Ye were sayin', Ned, there was a guy in th' ould stan'." "Yes," replied Carter; "somebody was toutin' us off. A board broke, an' that frightened the boss's mount." "I t'ought I see a b'y skinnin' off the track," commented Gaynor. "First I t'ought it was Shandy, but what'd he be doin' there? Did ye see his face, Ned?"
For that matter, it breaks the arm of a party who's playin' opp'site to Curly, an' who is skinnin' his pasteboards at the time, thinkin' nothin' of war. Which the queer part is this: Curly, as I states an' he never knows what hits him, an' is as dead as Santa Anna in a moment is dealin' the kyards. He's got the deck in his hands.
Forgive me, and I'll never do so no more. I'm cryin' all the day, as though I got my livin' wi' skinnin' onions. Relieve me, my dear, or my feelin's will be too much for me.
I says, 'Say now, Bud, it would take about a month of travel to get out West, an' if the Injuns didn't want nothin' but our scalps that wouldn't be no fun, an' Da ain't really so bad, coz we sho'ly did starve them pigs so one of 'em died. I reckon we deserved all we got anyhow, it was all dumb foolishness about skinnin' out, though I'd like mighty well to be a hunter. Well, Bud died that winter.
"'Well, then, sais you, 'paint a party of gipsies there; mind their different coloured clothes, and different attitudes, and different occupations. Here a man mendin' a harness, there a woman pickin' a stolen fowl, there a man skinnin' a rabbit, there a woman with her petticoat up, a puttin' of a patch in it.
The night after the big snake-killing Jefferson Creede picked up his blankets and moved quietly back to the ramada with Hardy. "Them locoed punchers have been skinnin' rattlers and stretchin' their hides," he said, "until the camp stinks like a buzzard roost.
'He ain't got the hang of spud- skinnin'. No more he 'ad. 'E was simply cannibalisin' 'em. "'I want to know what 'e 'as got the 'ang of, says 'Op, obstructed-like. 'Watch 'im, 'e says. 'These shoulders were foreign-drilled somewhere.
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