The Prairie Detective — page 134: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

} THE PRAIRIE DETECTIVE. 125 that he might upbraid his own foolishness verbally. But, if he could not speak aloud, he could think— and think he did. The tenor of his reflections was like this: ‘Dern my ugly mug! Posey Ryan, ye’re the doggonedest, blamebest id-jit I ever seen! Fire an’ brimstun! Ef ever ye git outen this scrape, ye’d better go off summers, into some quiet locallerty, an’ soak that woodem head o’ yourn fer the rest 0’ yer nat’ral an’ onnat’ral days. The idee o’ bein’ picked up fer a flat, by sich a lop-eared, bow-legged = duffer ezthet Jack Robinson! “H’mph! Ye desarve to starve. In course he’d go back onte ye—any dern fool could hev told ye so. Why, jest ez soorfez ye let him outen yer sight, in course he went an’ hunted up his pardners, an’ brought ’em right hyar, so’s they could scoop ye in. Tarantalers an’ bull-dogs! but ye are a green one— blamed ef ye ain’t, Posey !”’ Having delivered himself of this mental self- scorching, Ryan set about trying to devise some plan of escape. But that was useless, and he soon gave it up in disgust. Sycamore Dan’s thoughts were of the same order, but instead of blaming Ryan, he laid all the oppro- brium upon himself for not having taken Robinson at his word, and sent an ounce of lead ree him that morning. But self-accusations were useless, and they soon had other matters to think about; for, as the day progressed they became both hungry and thirsty. No one not forcibly deprived of food and drink can for a moment appreciate the awful agony of the trial they underwent. And then, as if this were not enough, they suf. “ (Efe) Eomicboo cS