Parkin: I can bring you some logs up later but I've got the cows and that to feed first.
The other crows call her sweetling and hushling, and give her cigarette ends to put in her little bag.
Take this book and put it on the shelf.
She could fight, too, when I got snuffy. […] Once I come home from elk camp so drunk I couldn't hardly sit my horse, and Sylvie near to kilt me, she fought me so hard.
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