F. J. McHenry, The Pacific Monthly
“ After having delivered himself thus, he acted as if the person addressed had been placed in the lowest category imaginable, and never, even though he stood six feet one in his stockings, with a proportionately Herculean frame, was he ever looked upon as having, in plains parlance, "a big plenty of fight in him." He used to say himself, "I'd ruther eat three square meals a day than be the dadbusted bulliest hero that ever died with his boots on." ”
F. J. McHenry, The Pacific Monthly
“ Pardner, I've seen men strung up, shot full of holes an' cross over ther great divide by bein' trampled to death by herds of wild steers, but I never saw such pain an' agony in a human critter's face ez war in Jake's ez he watched her ter ther door. ”
F. J. McHenry, The Pacific Monthly
“ You see, pardner, he war dead gone on that ar gal, an' believin' that all's fair in love an' war, he asked me if I would straddle his broncho an' ride on about six miles ahead to ther Cross Bar ranch, which was located in a canyon a half-mile off ther trail, an' couldn't be seen, an' tell ther boys there that he had a Dutchman aboard that war afraid of bein' held up by road agents, which war true enough. ”
