"Oh--oh!"
"Tell me her right name, ye little cuss, or I'll squeeze ye into
pulp."
"Lemmee go! Dad calls her Sadie."
Jeff released the shoulder, grinning.
"Sadie--that's a heap better. I--I could love to--to distraction a
girl o' the name o' Sadie."
"If Sadie were here----" Bud had removed himself to a respectful
distance, and was now glaring at Jeff, and rubbing his bruised
shoulder.
"I wish she was, I wish she was. You were saying, Bud----"
"I was saying that if Sadie were here, she'd fix you mighty quick."
"Would she? God bless her!" He stared sentimentally at the photograph.
"Yes, she would. She'd let you know that a girl may be round--an'
soft--an' innocent--and a holy terror, too, when a big, blundering
galoot of a dep'ty-sheriff talks o' loving somebody to whom he's never
been introduced, and never likely to be, neither."
Jeff looked up in amazement.
"Why, Bud; why, sonny--ye're real mad! Why, you silly little whipper-
snapper, ye don't think I'd talk that way if the young lady was
around. Great Scot! Look ye here! Now--now I ain't goin' to hurt ye
any. Come nearer.
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