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 I'm fired, for I ain't; I resigned when I loaded up this gun with buckshot a minute ago. Waltz over there te that krel, and line up agin the fence!"

As the three marched at Grubb's orders, the poet, who had so unexpectedly developed the qualities of a first-class fighting man, whispered to Barrett:

"Our horses're back of the house—all set—I turned every head but them out on the range. Bolt for 'em kid! I'm with you."