"But
these long-horns that's raised on salt-horse an' rawhide, maintains a
jaw on 'em that makes iron an' granite seem right mushy. I didn't
figure I'd recount the disturbance, aimin' to pass it off casual
regardin' the disfigurin' of my profile. But if you-all witnessed the
debate, I might as well go ahead an' oncork the details. In the first
place, this warrior is a deputy that's out after Win."
The Texan glanced sharply at Bat who became suddenly seized with a fit
of coughing, but the face of the half-breed was impassive--even sombre
as he worked at the blanket. "It's all owin' to politics," continued
the cowpuncher, rolling and lighting a cigarette. "Politics, an' the
fact that the cow country is in its dotage. Choteau County is growin'
effeminate, not to say right down effete when a lynchin', that by
rights it would be stretching its importance even to refer to it in
conversation, is raised to the dignity of a political issue. As
everyone knows, a hangin' is always a popular play, riddin' the
community of an ondesirable, an' at the same time bein' a warnin' to
others to polish up their rectitude. But it seems, from what I was
able to glean, that this particular hangin' didn't win universal
acclaim, owin' to the massacre of Purdy not bein' deplored none."
Once more the half-breed emitted a strangling cough, and Tex eyed him
narrowly.
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