Chip, of the Flying U by B. M. Bower
page 63 of 174 (36%)
page 63 of 174 (36%)
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"No, you needn't. Doggone it, this wading through ponds uh soft soap
has got t' stop right here. I never had t' do it when I was baching, I notice." He essayed, with the aid of a large splinter, to scrape the offending soap from his trousers. "Certainly, you didn't. Bachelors never use soap," retorted Della. "Oh, they don't, hey? That's all you know about it. They don't use this doggoned, slimy truck, let me tell yuh. What d'yuh want, Chip? Oh, you've got t' grin, too! Dell, why don't yuh do something fer my head? What's your license good f er, I'd like t' know? You didn't see Dell's license, did yuh, Chip? Go and get it an' show it to him, Dell. It's good fer everything but gitting married--there ain't any cure for that complaint." CHAPTER VII. Love and a Stomach Pump. An electrical undercurrent of expectation pervaded the very atmosphere of Flying U ranch. The musicians, two supercilious but undeniably efficient young men from Great Falls, had arrived two hours before and were being graciously entertained by the Little Doctor up at the house. The sandwiches stood waiting, the coffee was ready for the boiling water, |
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