“England!” snarled Jedidiah, chewing viciously at his cigar and scowling at the beam of sunlight flooding in at the open door of the little summer-house. “England! A blame, wall-eyed, on-civilized snip o’ land I tell ya—yessir! It’s took me a hull fortnight to tell ’em as a U-nited States marshal’s gotta right to shoot a crook afore he plugs me. A fortnight! Yessir!” “They aren’t so used to gun-play over here,” said Dallas. “How is Ryerson?” “Gettin’ fat, his kind takes a lot o’ killin’.” “Well, say now, Jed, I do …
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