of the night. "Have you ever heard me sing?" asked Kean.

but I had moods when I felt things.

of the night.

One of Black's big wool teams was just coming away from the shed,

of the night.

and the driver, a big, dark, rough fellow, with some foreign blood in him,

of the night.

didn't seem inclined to wheel his team an inch out of the middle of the road.

I stopped my horses and waited. He looked at me and I looked at him -- hard.

Then he wheeled off, scowling, and swearing at his horses.

I'd given him a hiding, six or seven years before, and he hadn't forgotten it.

And I felt then as if I wouldn't mind trying to give some one a hiding.

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