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Sinclair, Bertrand W., 1881-1972

"Raw Gold A Novel"


"Now," Piegan declared, "we have 'em located. An' I'm here t' declare
that it's plumb foolish t' mix things with that layout till we can see
t' shoot tolerable straight. If we go against 'em now, it'll be all same
goin' blindfolded into a barn t' pick out the best hoss. The first gun
that pops they'll raise up an' quit the earth like a bunch uh antelope.
_They_ ain't got nothin' t' win in a fight--unless they're cornered. I
did think uh tryin' t' get off with their hosses, but I figured it
wouldn't pay with that sharp-eared cuss on the watch. Whenever it comes
day, we got all the best uh things--though I don't reckon we'll have a
walkaway. We want t' make a clean job once we start in, an' we kain't do
that in the dark. Furthermore, as I said before, if we go t' throwin'
lead when we kain't see ten feet in front of us, we'd just about hit
that girl first rattle out uh the box. She ain't comin' t' no harm just
now, or it wouldn't be so blamed peaceful around there. It's only a
matter of a couple uh hours t' daylight, anyhow. What d'yuh think?"
"Under the circumstances, the only thing we can do is to wait," MacRae
assented, and I fancied that there was a reluctant quiver in his usually
steady voice. "It's going to be smoky at daybreak, but we can see their
camp from this first point, I think.


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