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And Judson Eells, who had rushed out at the rumor of his approach, drew up his lip and glared at him hatefully. "You're a criminal!" he bellowed, "I could have you jailed for this that Stinging Lizard mine was salted!" "The hell you say!" shrilled Wunpost and then he laughed uproariously while he did a little jig in his stirrups. "Yeee hoo!" he yelled, "say, that's pretty good!
So completely that they did not hear Steve Packard singing far out in the night as he rode slowly toward the ranch-house: "An' I'd rather hear a kiote howl Than be the King of Rome! An' when day comes if day does come By cripes, I'm goin' home! Back home! Hear me comin', boys? Yeee! I said it. Comin' home!"
An' when day comes if day does come By cripes, I'm goin' home! . . . Back home! Hear me comin', boys? Yeee! I said it: 'Comin' home!" He sat up in bed. The fragrance of boiling coffee and frying bacon assailed his nostrils pleasurably. Terry's voice had grown silent. Perhaps she was having her breakfast by now?
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