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Lewis, Alfred Henry, 1857-1914

"Wolfville"

The female gets speshul mad at
this, allowin'
they's playin' it low down on her fam'ly. But she takes it out in
cuffin' the yearlin's now an' then, jest to keep 'em yellin', an'
don't say nothin'. "Which the stage is about half through the
canyon, when up on both sides a select assortment of Winchesters
begins to bang an' jump permiscus; the same goin' hand-in-hand with
whoops of onusual merit. With the first shot Old Monte pours the
leather into the team, an' them hosses surges into the collars like
cyclones. "It's lucky aborigines ain't no shots. They never yet gets
the phelosophy of a
hind sight none, an' generally you can't reach their bullets with a
ten-foot pole, they's that high above your head. The only thing as
gets hit this time is Texas. About the beginnin', a little cloud of
dust flies outen the shoulder of his coat, his face turns pale, an'
Cherokee knows he's creased. "'Did they get you, Old Man?' says
Cherokee, some anxious. "'No,' says Texas, tryin' to brace himse'f.
'I'll be
on velvet ag'in in a second. I now longs, however, for that whiskey
I hurls overboard so graceful.' "The Apaches comes tumblin' down
onto the trail an' gives chase, a-shootin' an' a-yellin' a heap
zealous.


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