"Dealt me a raw deal, didn't yeh, you smart Frenchie?" gloated Buckeye
Pete. "Well, look at your man. Take a good look, an' don't miss the
necktie he's wearin'. Pretty li'l rope choker we got for Dandy Anthony.
Ain't no man can go killin' an' get away with it, while I'm here,"
looking around for applause.
"Name of a pig!" hissed Mignon. "You - you would."
"Sure' we would! Right out on the lynchin' tree." She turned and dashed
for the rear. "Ze sheriff! He must come toute suite!"
"Min," whispered Soft-soap Joe, the bartender, "he left two hours ago on
a new case, otherwise they wouldn't a-dared do this."
"Mon Dieu! An' ze justice, he is intoxicate! Mother Marie, pray for
him," she cried, in her own language, and she ran after the lynching
party.
Once she stopped, shaking with terror at what she took to be a grizzly
in the path. It was only the fighting donkey still following the master
whom he had adopted. He made his way to the very center of the mob. The
French girl followed and, climbing onto a barrel, faced the crowd with
flashing eyes.
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