.

.

It's not such a bad stroke, Frenchy.

By it, you would be able to get possession of half of the old Spaniard's dollars, and then say that you had made it in America." And while he was storming, or rather howling, all this, he had grasped his lash and with the butt end kept poking his manager in the stomach with such insistence that it might be construed in an affectionate or hostile way.
"For this reason I have come to bid you good-bye," said Desnoyers haughtily.

"I know that my love is absurd, and I wish to leave." "The gentleman would go away," the ranchman continued spluttering.