Clarence E. Mulford

“ I'll have yore skins pegged out to dry before I get through with you. Yo're a bunch of sap-headed jackasses, with no more sense than a sheep-herder. I'm 'most ashamed to get you; but I'm stranglin' my shame. You pore mutton-heads!"
Quigley's language almost seared the vegetation and he was threatened with spontaneous combustion. When he paused for breath he swung his rifle up and pulled the trigger, almost blind with rage. Johnny's answering shot ripped through his forearm and he felt the awful sickness which comes when a bone is scraped. ”

“ I want that rifle; an' I speaks for it here an' now. When we get him, I get th' gun."
"It's yourn," groaned Quigley. "Gimme a drink of whiskey before I start out. But I don't like to leave you to handle this alone. I can stick it out."
"It's a one-man job until somebody comes out," responded Holbrook. "All I got to do is lay low an' not let him come down that trail. A ten-year-old kid can do that durin' daylight. But you ain't goin' to go till you feel a little better," he ordered, producing a flask. "You wait a while—th' sun won't be hot for a couple of hours yet. ”

“ Give him our ranch, an' cows, an' pay him to let us leave th' country! Six of us! Six gun-fightin', law-breakin', cattle-liftin' cow-punchers; sane, healthy, an' as tough as rawhide rope, payin' him, a lone man up a tree, to let us leave th' country! ”

“ I can imagine them wicked little eyes of hisn gettin' redder an' redder every minute. An' one swipe of them paws would cave in th' side of th' biggest steer on th' range. It's a cussed good thing grizzlies ain't got th' speed an' habits of mountain lions—they'd be th' most dangerous things on earth if they had."
The bear sat down suddenly and dragged himself a few feet, and then ran on at top speed.
Holbrook roared with laughter. "Ho! Ho! Ho! This is goin' to be as much fun as a circus! ”

“ They must 'a' smelled th' blood. Here, wrap yore coat around it or they'll pump it full of pizen."
Two hours later, Quigley having departed for the ranch, Holbrook lay on the top of the northern Twin, glad to have escaped from the attacks of the winged pests which had driven him out of the canyon; and hoping that his enemy would try to take advantage of the situation, if he knew of it, and try to escape. He had decided that he could guard the trail as well from the top of the butte as he could from the canyon, for the whole length of the steeply sloping path lay before him. ”

“ The edge of the shirt flopped inward as the garment momentarily assumed the general shape of a funnel.
"He ain't th' only ki-yote that can shoot," chuckled the marksman. "Fleming couldn't 'a' done any better'n that. Bet he's mad. Serves him right for havin' two. He ain't no better than me, an' I only got one, since Ackerman took my other one. Cuss it!" he swore, blinking rapidly and spitting as a sharp spat! sent sand into his face.
He shifted, wiped his lips, and peered out at a spot on the other butte where a cloud of smoke spread out along the ground. ”