I got a quirt hanging up in the shop now that Johnnie Barclay dropped one day when I got after him with a pan of water.
Her quirt rose and fell, the lash burning his wrist like a band of fire.
On my horse I rode beside the mules, urging them along with my quirt.
He headed him into the open, laid the quirt to him, and galloped toward the hills.
He attempted to kiss me, and I attempted to cut his face open with my quirt.
She stood in her saddle habit, with her quirt still in hand.
He himself was flailing with his quirt, and the buckskin grunted at every strike.
They passed close—so close I could have reached out an' touched 'em with my quirt.
She was using the quirt on her mount and he was jumping ahead like a streak of light.
Wadley's quirt burned the flank of the cow-pony and it leaped for the road.