cowboys jersey vander esch

"Good-morning," we said. One of the men was a sergeant. He scanned my animal, and then me, with a dawning smile. "That's a fightin'-cock of a horse you've got, sonny."

"Deserters, I don't doubt!" was my comment to the ladies. Tongue revenge is poor, but it is something.

"Why, what does all this mean?" asked Miss Harper amid her nieces' cries.

"I see."

"Mis-ter Smith! you wrote that?--to-day! Wh'--who is she?"

I dilated. "Who told--did Ned Ferry tell you that story?"

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