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Vachell, Horace Annesley, 1861-1955

"Bunch Grass A Chronicle of Life on a Cattle Ranch"

Then she drawled out: "Wal, I hoped you
might, but----"
"Why, Lily! You hoped I might?"
"Yes; but I feared you'd git murdered first. Oh Jaspar, I didn't know
you was sech a man."
She stood up, her eyes were shining, her face radiant "Fergive me, but
I reckoned you--was--petered--out?"
"Petered out--_me_?"
"Yas; I'm a silly, fullish woman."
"No, you ain't. Petered out--_me_? Wal," he glanced at Leveson,
"somebody _is_ petered out, but it ain't me. Did ye ever see a
man scairt worse'n him? I scairt the wizard some; yas I did, but he
could run: this feller can't crawl, I reckon. An' this yere Colt wan't
loaded then, an' it ain't loaded--now. Look! What an appetite I hev!
Who says supper? Now, mister," he addressed Leveson, "seein' as the
starch is outer you, I'll give ye my arm as fur as the Paloma."
"Leave me," gurgled Leveson.
"I'm too good a Christian. In the state yer in it'd kill ye to meet
somebody else ye've robbed. It's too risky."
"Go, you scoundrel! Authority was returning to his voice; the old
arrogance gleamed in his eyes.
"Scoundrel--hay?" Uncle Jap's voice became savage.


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