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Buck, Charles Neville, 1879-1930

"A Pagan of the Hills"

"
The girl's face crimsoned.
"I thought ye said hit war me ye fought erbout, Joe."
"I did say so, Alexander."
"An' ye didn't see no aspersion thet called fer a fight--in ther way
them words teched _you_?"
That phase of the matter had not occurred to Joe at all. He was used
to being overlooked.
"He warn't thinkin' erbout me," he lamely exculpated. "I reckon he hed
hit in head thet I hain't quite twenty-one yit."
For a while Alexander stood looking at him with a slowly gathering
tempest of anger in her eyes, under which the boy fidgeted, and finally
she spoke in that ominously still manner that marked moments of dang'er.
"What he said erbout me war true enough--an' ef ye admits what he all
but said erbout you--thet ye hain't no man--then _thet's_ true too."
The boy was crestfallen and a little impatient now. He had come to
recount an achievement which had plumed and reappareled a limping
self-respect and he had expected congratulation.
"What's ther use of faultin' me by mincin' words? I licked him, didn't
I? Set hit down ter anything ye likes.


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