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White, Stewart Edward, 1873-1946

"Arizona Nights"

At the moment Jed Parker was
holding forth to his friend Johnny Stone in reference to another
old crony who had that evening joined the round-up.

"Johnny," inquired Jed with elaborate gravity, and entirely
ignoring the presence of the subject of conversation, "what is
that thing just beyond the fire, and where did it come from?"

Johnny Stone squinted to make sure.
"That?" he replied. "Oh, this evenin' the dogs see something run
down a hole, and they dug it out, and that's what they got."
The newcomer grinned.
"The trouble with you fellows," he proffered "is that you're so
plumb alkalied you don't know the real thing when you see it."
"That's right," supplemented Windy Bill drily. "HE come from New
York."

"No!" cried Jed. "You don't say so? Did he come in one box or in
two?"

Under cover of the laugh, the newcomer made a raid on the dutch
ovens and pails. Having filled his plate, he squatted on his
heels and fell to his belated meal. He was a tall, slab-sided
individual, with a lean, leathery face, a sweeping white
moustache, and a grave and sardonic eye. His leather chaps were
plain and worn, and his hat had been fashioned by time and
wear into much individuality.


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