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Lewis, Alfred Henry, 1857-1914

"Wolfville"

'
"Cherokee turns out a big drink an' stands a-holdin' of it in his
hand. I wants to say right yere, this Cherokee's plenty guileful.
"'You was namin',' says Cherokee, 'some public improvements you aims
to make; sech as movin' this yere camp 'round some, I believes?'
"'That's whatever,' says the Red Dog man, 'an' the holycaust I
'nitiates is due to start in fifteen minutes.'
"'I've been figgerin' on you,' says Cherokee, 'an' I gives you the
result in strict confidence without holdin' out a kyard. When you-
all talks of tearin' up Wolfville, you're a liar an' a hoss-thief,
an' you ain't goin' to tear up nothin'.'
"'What's this I hears!' yells the frenzied Red Dog man, reachin' for
his gun.
"But he never gets it, for the same second Cherokee spills the glass
of whiskey straight in his eyes, an' the next he's anguished an'
blind as a mole.
"'I'll fool this yere human simoon up a lot,' says Cherokee, a-
hurlin' of the Red Dog man to the floor, face down, while his nine-
inch bowie shines in his hand like the sting of a wasp. 'I shore
fixes him so he can't get a job clerkin' in a store,' an' grabbin'
the Red Dog man's ha'r, which is long as the mane of a pony, he
slashes it off close in one motion.


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