? ? ? ? 'Still got that 38-55?'
? ? ? ? Lon nodded.
? ? ? ? 'But you'd better git a more likely caliber. Mine'll rip holes through you the size of walnuts.'
? ? ? ? 'Niver fear; it's me own slugs smell their way with soft noses, an' they'll spread like flapjacks against the coming out beyand. An' when'll I have the pleasure of waitin' on ye? The waterhole's a strikin' locality.'
? ? ? ? ''Tain't bad. Jest be there in an hour, and you won't set long on my coming.'
? ? ? ? Both men mittened and left the Post, their ears closed to the remonstrances of their comrades. It was such a little thing; yet with such men, little things, nourished by quick tempers and stubborn natures, soon blossomed into big things. Besides, the art of burning to bedrock still lay in the womb of the future, and the men of Forty-Mile, shut in by the long Arctic winter, grew high-stomached with overeating and enforced idleness, and became as irritable as do the bees in the fall of the year when the hives are overstocked with honey.
? ? ? ? There was no law in the land.
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