"Stand back, or I'll blow somebody's head off!" I heard a chuckling laugh from a man sitting in one of the wagons, and a word or two from him that sounded like, "Good girl!" Our little mob fell back, the man I had thrown limping, and Dick McGill rubbing the side of his head.

The dawn was now broadening in the east, and it was getting almost light enough so that faces might be recognized; and one or two of the crowd began to retreat toward the wagons.
"I'll see to it," said I, "that these people will leave this land, and give up their settlement on it." "No we won't," said Rowena.

"We'll stay here if we're killed." "Now, Rowena," said her father, "don't be so sot.

We'll leave right off.
Boys, hitch up the horse.

We'll leave, gentlemen.