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Into the Primitive

           "AllIgetisfiftyforit,"hegrumbled;"an’Iwouldn’tdoitoverforathousand,coldcash." 

           Hishandwaswrappedinabloodyhandkerchief,andtherighttrouserlegwasrippedfromkneetoankle. 

           "Howmuchdidtheothermugget?"thesaloon-keeperdemanded. 

           "Ahundred,"wasthereply."Wouldn’ttakeasouless,sohelpme." 

           "Thatmakesahundredandfifty,"thesaloon-keepercalculated;"andhe’sworthit,orI’masquarehead." 

           Thekidnapperundidthebloodywrappingsandlookedathislaceratedhand. "IfIdon’tgetthehydrophoby" 

           "It’llbebecauseyouwasborntohang,"laughedthesaloon-keeper. "Here,lendmeahandbeforeyoupullyourfreight,"headded. 

           Dazed,sufferingintolerablepainfromthroatandtongue,withthelifehalfthrottledoutofhim,Buckattemptedtofacehistormentors. Buthewasthrowndownandchokedrepeatedly,tilltheysucceededinfilingtheheavybrasscollarfromoffhisneck. Thentheropewasremoved,andhewasflungintoacagelikecrate. 

           Therehelayfortheremainderofthewearynight,nursinghiswrathandwoundedpride. Hecouldnotunderstandwhatitallmeant. Whatdidtheywantwithhim,thesestrangemen? Whyweretheykeepinghimpentupinthisnarrowcrate? Hedidnotknowwhy,buthefeltoppressedbythevaguesenseofimpendingcalamity. 

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Roboto Lora
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