[Arizona Nights by Stewart Edward White]@TWC D-Link book
Arizona Nights

CHAPTER SEVEN
10/29

I hooked up to another saloon kept by a thin Dutchman.

A fat Dutchman is stupid, but a thin one is all right.
In ten minutes I had more friends in Cyanide than they is fiddlers in hell.

I begun to conclude Cyanide wasn't so lonesome.

About four o'clock in comes a little Irishman about four foot high, with more upper lip than a muley cow, and enough red hair to make an artificial aurorer borealis.

He had big red hands with freckles pasted onto them, and stiff red hairs standin' up separate and lonesome like signal stations.


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