Well, anyway, Tellef had given him an ugly scratch on the cheek. It hurt awfully, for it was a long, deep scratch. Ugh! But the fight had been a great one, and Tellef and everybody knew now who was the strongest, and all that bragging about Tellef’s muscle was done with.,
One hot noontide he and Eric lay on the wharf in the baking sunshine. It was not Pilot Taraldsen’s wharf near the house, but the old wharf beyond the woods.,
“I’ll try to git ’em,” announced Jenkins. “I guess I better git the sheriff down to Las Cruces to call out a posse—”.
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