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You got your wolf
that time, sure. How you likee shootee?"
"No likee, Missee Stella. Makee too much noisee, all samee too much
plenty fiahclackers. Kickee like blazes. Plitty near knockee arm outee
Song."
The boys stripped Farley after breakfast, and found his legs in pretty
bad condition. They looked as if Song's gun had been loaded with
smallpox, and all of it had lodged in the lad's legs.
"Boys, we'll have to take relays in picking the shot from our first
victim," said Ted. "There's too much work here for one man."
"He's a turrible-lookin' demon now with a hide full o' shot. Ther
punctured demon of Demonville! Say, kid, I'd hate ter laugh at yer, but
yer a sight. Why didn't yer fix it so's them two charges o' shot would
hev been distributed among ther gang? Then yer could sit down o'
evenings an' pick shot out o' one another instid o' plottin' agin' ther
whites."
"Let him be, Bud, he's having all he can do to think about these shots,
as it is. The things for us to do now is to pick them out of him.


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