United States or Libya ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Bitther cowld it was, aw, bitther cowld, and the b'ys droppin' down, droppin', droppin', droppin', wid the Roosian bullets in thim! "'Kilquhanity, says Sergeant-Major Kilpatrick to me, 'it's this shtandin' still, while we do be droppin', droppin', that girds the soul av yer. Aw, the sight it was, the sight it was!
"When you took me up to your room that day in New York and threw some grub into me," he replied at last with apparent carelessness, "and left me for a minute, why I just sort of looked things over. There was a letter with Helga signed to it. The name's awful funny, ain't it? She is Roosian, ain't she?" "What do you know about her?"
"A see-gar?" echoed Polly, distinctly disappointed. Bud's offer to duplicate the boudoir was now reduced to the proportions of "two fer a nickel." "Yep," assured the Sheriff. "They are named after a Roosian one of them diplomat fellers." "What's a diplomat?" Polly was finding Slim a mine of information, but all of the sort that needed plenty of expansion.
"Aw the night it was," said Kilquhanity, after a pause, blowing a cloud of tobacco smoke into the air, "the night it was, me darlin's! Bitther cowld in that Roosian counthry, though but late summer, and nothin' to ate but a lump of bread, no bigger than a dickybird's skull; nothin' to drink but wather. Turrible, turrible, and for clothes to wear Mother of Moses! that was a bad day for clothes!
"Have you wised up?" he whispered. "Got next to who the mysterious fairy is?" "She's Miss Claire Hazleton," said Wanda a little stiffly and a bit puzzled. "Rats!" grunted Mr. Dart putting much eloquence Into the monosyllable. "That's a bum monniker out of a French love story. It's the Roosian princess. It's Helga, that's who it is!"
It's the praise and glory of ould Ireland in the great days that's gone, when we were all Phenayceans and Armenians, and when we worked all manner of beautiful contrivances in gold and silver, bracelets and collars and teapots, elegant to look at, and read Roosian and Latin, and played the harp and the barrel-organ, and eat and drank of the best, for nothing but asking."
An' there's Smoke, the black little devil didn't the Roosians have him for three years in the salt mines of Siberia, for poachin' on Copper Island, which is a Roosian preserve? Shackled he was, hand an' foot, with his mate.
I hopes as how it'll be by a Roosian, or a Proosian, or a dacint Christian man of some sort or t'other, an' not, faix, by one of thim yaller-faced Johnnies over yander!" We all laughed at this, it being quite a relief to find our old friend the corporal had not yet lost "the number of his mess," as he was the life and soul of the ship on the lower deck, drunk or sober!
"We are slaves; we are Roosian scurfs. We work as many hours as our owners like; we take what pay they choose to give us; we ask their permission to live and breathe." "Oh, that's a lie!" Sleeny interrupted, with unbroken calmness. "Old Saul Matchin and me come to an agreement about time and pay, and both of us was suited. Ef he's got his heel onto me, I don't feel it"
O'Flynn came in with a dripping bucket, and sat down to breakfast shivering. "Which way'd he go?" "The Boy? Down river." "Sure he didn't go over the divide?" O'Flynn was sure. He'd just been down to the water-hole, and in the faint light he'd seen the Boy far down on the river-trail "leppin" like a hare in the direction of the Roosian mission." "Goin' to meet ... a ... Nicholas?"
Word Of The Day