Mavericks

d heard once
from a phonograph. No matter if he did not get the words exactly. He was
sure of the sentiment. So the hills flung back his lusty:

"I love a lassie,
A bonnie Hieland lassie,
She's as pure as the lily of the dell."

Disaster fell upon him like a bolt out of a June sky. His pony
stumbled, went down heavily with its weight on his leg. From the
darkness men surged upon him. Rough hands dragged at him. The butt of a
weapon crashed down on his hat and stunned him.

He became dimly aware that his leg was free from the horse, that he was
struggling blindly to rise against the force that clamped him down. He
knew that he reached his feet, that he was lashing out furiously with
both hands, that even as he grappled with one assailant a gleam of steel
flashed across the moonlight and shot through him with a zigzag pain
that blotted out the world.

As his mind swam back to consciousness through troubled waters a
far-away voice came out of the fog that surrounded him.

"He's coming to, looks like. I reckon you ain't bust his head, after
all, Brad."

Vague, grinning gargoyles mocked him from the haze. Slowly these took
form. Features stood out. The masks became faces. They no longer floated
detached in space, but belonged definitely to human beings.

"It ain't our fault if you're stove up some, pardner. You're too durned
anxious to whip yore weight in wildcats," one of the men grinned.

"Right you are, Tom. He shore hits like a kicking mule," chimed in a
third, nursing a cheek that had been cut open to the bone.

A fourth spoke up, a leather-faced vaquero with hard eyes of jade. "No
hard feelings, friend. All in the way of business." With which he gave a
final tug at the knot that tied the hands of his prisoner.

"I've got Mr. Healy to thank for this, I expect," commented the nester
quietly.

"We've got no rope on yore expectations, Mr. Keller; but this outfit
doesn't run any information bureau," answered the heavy-set, sullen
fellow who had been called Brad

Mary Johnston (November 21, 1870 May 9, 1936) was an American novelist and womens rights advocate. The daughter of an American Civil War soldier who became a successful lawyer, Mary Johnston was born in the small town of Buchanan, Virginia. A small and frail girl, she was educated at home by family and tutors. She grew up with a love of books and was financially independent enough to devote herself to writing.

Various, or Various Production, is an English dubstep/electronic music duo formed in 2003. The group blends samples, acoustic and electronic instrumentation, and singing from a revolving cast of vocalists. Its members, Adam and Ian, purposefully give very little information about the group or themselves, and tend to do little in the way of self-promotion.[1] Nevertheless, the group began winning critical acclaim with its single releases in 2005 and 2006.[2] Their full-length for XL, The World is Gone, arrived in July of 2006.[3][4][5][6][7] They have released a large number of vinyl EPs and 7 records, as well as digital exclusives for Rough Trade, iTunes, and Boomkat.[8]