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"What are you putting up in the garden, Elinor?" asked Madalon, stirring her tea. "I noticed that Henry had a lot of poles planted along the south shrubbery——","Why to poison his teeth with. He's loadin' up fer somebody, sure as shootin'. Gosh! I am sorry you've been sech a fool, Anse. Jest think, one little scratch from that coon's teeth and—',Pshaw! At Tellef’s they had eaten all the apples immediately on Tellef’s arrival with them.,“You?” gasped Bob. “You? What are you doing here? To tell us that the dirty work you started is successful?”,"Then why don't you go back?" suggests Mona, simply.,"But you have no piano?",But at first all he could think of was what would happen if he did not get out. Probably it meant the blowing up of the dam and machinery and a serious uprising of the Mexicans—one that would mean bloodshed. It was terrible to think of, yet he was convinced that that was the least that could be expected. The cattlemen could not hold the Mexicans in check once they had been started on the rampage.,“No excuses! It means that you have broken discipline twice, doesn’t it? Left your work and then rode a bucket, which is against all orders. I’ll have to fire that control operator who let you do it.”,It was long, long ago, very far back, that this happened. In those days the people used to kill the buffalo by driving them over a steep place near the river, down which they fell into a great pen built at the foot of the cliff, where the buffalo that had not been killed by the fall were shot with arrows by the men. Then the people went into the pen and skinned the buffalo and cut them up and carried the meat away to their camp. This pen they called piskun.,They appear a kindly, gentle, good-humored people,—easily led, no doubt (which is their undoing), but generous to the heart's core; a people who can speak English fluently (though with a rich brogue) and more grammatically than the Sassenachs themselves (of their own class), inasmuch as they respect their aspirates and never put an h in or leave one out in the wrong place.,THINGS happened very fast the next few days. “Something doing every minute,” Billy put it. Billy had neither been ill nor injured,—only exhausted. The wound on his scalp had been worse in appearance than in fact; and a couple of long nights in sleep, and easy days at home mended him completely.,"What's the matter with them?" says Mona, with some pardonable impatience..