Which I might, in the hurry of my dooties, have
passed by them childish bluffs onchallenged an' with nothin' more
than pityin' thoughts of the ignorance of this yere maverick, but
gents, this party overplays his hand. Last evenin' he asks me to let
him take my gun, says he's cur'ous to see one. That settles it with
me; this Davis has been a object of suspicion ever since. No, it
ain't that I allows he's out to queer my weepon none, but think of
sech a pretence of innocence! I leaves it to you-all, collectif an'
individooal, do you reckon now thar's anybody, however tender, who's
that guileless as to go askin' a perfect stranger that a-way to pass
him out his gun? I says no, this gent is overdoin' them roles. He
ain't so tender as he assoomes. An' from the moment I hears of this
last stand-up of the stage back in the canyon, I feels that this
yere party is somehow in the play. Thar's four in this band who's
been spreadin' woe among the stage companies lately, an' thar's only
two of 'em shows in this latest racket which they gives Old Monte,
an' that express gyard they shot up. Them other two sports who ain't
present is shore some'ers, an' I gives it as my opinions one of
'em's right yere in our onthinkin' center, actin' silly, askin'
egreegious questions, an' allowin' his name is Davis an' that he
hails from Buffalo.
Pages:
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356