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He's got a perfect right under the law to organize this here new drill company you speak about. I sometimes think that ef all the young men in this country had been required to do a little more drillin' in years gone by we'd be feelin' somewhat safer to-day. Anyway, it's a mighty great mistake sometimes to make a martyr out of a rascal.
"Oh, I'm sick of your swell New York friends! Can't you talk about something else?" He saw that he had blundered without in the least understanding how or why. "All right. What'll we talk about?" In itself a fatal admission. "About you." Tessie made it a caress. "Me? Nothin' to tell about me. I just been drillin' and studyin' and marchin' and readin' some Oh, say, what d'you think?" "What?"
We shall keep the boys out of it, and most of the beech-sealin' will be done by the men who hain't got no fam'blies here and are free in their movements. But the drill will be good for him and the time may come when all this drillin' will pay." "You really look for serious trouble with the Yorkers, Master Bolderwood?" she asked. "I reckon I do. With them or or others.
"Befo' I jined the 'Piscopal corps I didn't think I cu'd stan' 'em too high furlutin' for my raisin'. They seemed to pay mo' attenshun to their uniforms than their ordnance, an' their drum-majors outshine any other churches' major generals. An' drillin'? They can go through mo' monkey manoeuvers in five minutes than any other church can in a year.
I knew she was in for a three weeks' drillin' by the roughest stage manager in the business. You know who. But he can deliver the goods, can't he? He makes the green ones act. Look at what he did with Ruby! Only it don't seem like actin' at all. She's just Ruby, in the same puckered waist, her hair mopped around her head in the same silly braid, and that same stary look in her big eyes.
My eyes were drillin' into the gloom when a mite of a creature with her hands clasped rose up an' said, "Oh, Happy, Happy! is it really you? an' ridin' on the black hoss with the silver trimmed leather!" "Barbie, child!" I cried, "what on earth you doin' out here this time o' night an' all by your lone?"
Only in one spot, off in what Llanders calls a chamber, we finds two men workin' a compressed air jack-hammer, drillin' holes. "They'll be shooting a blast soon," says Llanders. "Want to wait?" "No thanks," says I prompt. "Mr. Fiske is in a rush." Maybe I missed something interestin', but with all that rock over my head I wasn't crazy to watch somebody monkey with dynamite.
He's a real likely, well-growed lad; and that West Point 't he's hankerin' for'd be the best thing ever happened to him. Exceptin' course 't it would nigh break his mother's heart, so he told me. Well, that's no more here nor there. A little drillin' in this Colorady air'll do 'em all good and set him up to a dandy shape. Yes, siree!
"Maybe I couldn't have swallered 'em, but I have," Grandmother mumbled. "What's more, I feel 'em workin' now inside me. They're chewing on the linin' of my stomach, and it hurts." "I didn't know there was any linin' in your stomach." "There is. It said so in the paper." "Did it say anything about hooks and eyes and whalebones? What kind of a linin' is it cambric, or drillin'?"
An' dey wuz a- drillin' an' a-drillin' all 'bout for a while, an' dey went 'long wid all de res' o' de army, an' I went wid Marse Chan an' clean he boots, an' look arfter de tent, an' tek keer o' him an' de hosses. An' Marse Chan, he wan' a bit like he use' to be. He wuz so solumn an' moanful all de time, at leas' 'cep' when dyah wuz gwine to be a fight.
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