That old tarrapin'll
stop a stage like a young-one would a clock, merely to see what's
into it. He's the party I'm pastin' up the notice for this mornin."
"'He's a liar!' says the old man, a-gettin' uglier every minute.
`Give us our six-shooters an throw us loose, an' if I don't lance
the roof of his lyin' mouth with the front sight of my gun, I'll
cash in for a hold-up or whatever else you-alls says.'
"'What do you say, Enright?' says Jack. 'Let's give 'em their
jewelry an' let 'em lope. I've got money as says the Wells-Fargo
bill-paster can't take this old' Cimmaron a little bit.'
"'Which I trails in,' says Boggs, 'with a few chips on the same
kyard.'
"'No,' says Enright, 'if this yere party's rustlin' the mails, we-
alls can't call his hand too quick. Wolfville's a straight camp an'
don't back no crim'nal plays; none whatever.'
"Enright tharupon calls a meetin' of the Stranglers, an' we-alls
lines out for the New York Store to talk it over. Before we done
pow-wows two minutes up comes Old Monte, with the stage, all dust
an' cuss-words, an' allows he's been stood up out by the cow springs
six hours before, an' is behind the mail-bag an' the Adams Company's
box on the deal.
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