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"But I ax you, as Boss, be this here camp a camp, er a camp-meetin'? Walley Johnson kin go straight to hell; but ef you sez we 'ain't to sing nawthin' but hymns, why, o' course, it's hymns for me till I kin git away to a camp where the hands is men, an' not wet-nurses!" "That's all right, Red!" said the Boss.
Did he come from Yellow Jacket Pass way?" asked Mr. Brewster, scratching his neck, thoughtfully. "The same! Wall, he died an' left Sary with nothing but funeral costs. She had to sell that measly ranch that Bill held a quarter interest in to pay bills, and now she hain't got nawthin' but her health. Better see Sary, Sam." It was the dawn of hope for Mr. Brewster.
Dooley, "he was in here las' night. 'How's our old frind Jawn? says I. He said nawthin'. 'Have ye seen ye'er collidge chum iv late? says I. 'Don't mintion that ma-an's name, says he. 'To think iv what I've done f'r him, he says, 'an' him to throw me down, he says. 'Did ye play th' tip? says I. 'I did, says he.
So he bought wan, an' was r-readin' it an' lookin' over th' top iv it at th' women in th' boxes, an' wondhrin' why some wan didn't tell thim their dhresses was slippin' down, whin over comes Cassidy, and says he, 'What's th' news in th' Sixth? 'Nawthin, says Duggan. 'Will O'Brien win? says Cassidy. 'They can't beat him, says Duggan. 'I dinnaw, says Cassidy.
Jim Sattler sent me to see if you-all would like a place to live out? We-all have company for the summer and my wife needs help," explained Sam Brewster. Sary beamed and exchanged polite introductions. "You-all tuk me clar off my feet, Mr. Brewster. Yes, Ah did think some of goin' in a reel good fam'ly to wuk, but nawthin' come up fer me, so Ah'm visitin' the neighbors.
You see, the cattlemen has had the free range so long they naturally 'low they own it, and they have the nerve to tell us fellers to keep off. They explain smooth enough that they ain't got nawthin' agin me pussonally you understand only they 'low me settlin' h'yer will bring others, which is shore about right, fer h'yer you be, kit an' caboodle.
That may not be pleasant for you to hear, Jake, but it's what I mean to have done. There's only one way you can escape it. Do you want to hear what that way is?" "Yuh're away off the track, young feller," blurted the man, obstinately shaking his head in a contrary way, "I ain't done nawthin' to make me askeered o' the law officers.
F'r two pins, Hinnissy, you an' I'd quarrel." "I didn't mean nawthin'," Mr. Hennessy apologized. "I didn't know he was down there." "Nayether did I," said Mr. Dooley. "But I informed mesilf. I'll have no wan in this place speak again th' ar-rmy. Ye can have ye'er say about Mack. He has a good job, an' 'tis r-right an' proper f'r to baste him fr'm time to time.
"Well, maybe there was a mistake," said Bobby, loath to believe such a monstrous charge against any one whom he knew. "Mistake nawthin'," insisted Biff. "Joe Poog don't take finger bets for hundreds, and Trimmer never did bet that way. He's a born welsher, anyhow.
Like as not a year fr'm now he'll be in jail, like Napoleon, th' impror iv th' Fr-rinch, was in his day, an' Mike, th' Burglar, an' other pathrites. That's what comes iv bein' a pathrite too long. 'Tis a good job, whin they'se nawthin' else to do; but 'tis not th' thing to wurruk overtime at.
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