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"Pitch 'em neck and crop into a cab, with a short-handled shovel and a sharp-tongued old hand. It nigh breaks their backs, but they learn quick that way." "Well, pitch me, neck and crop, into a cab, with as short a handle and sharp a tongue as you like, Mr. Anthony. I'm on three months' leave, and for reasons of my own want to learn how to fire an engine."
Gangs of men, often thirty in a gang, were in the fields cultivating leeks or onions with crude, heavy-looking, short-handled hoes. Teams of long-horned oxen attached to old-fashioned plows, at times eight or ten teams in one field, were turning up the soil.
Then springing out from the rest, he swung a short-handled, keen-bladed hatchet over his head, and sank it into the brain of the wretched Baxter. * Synonymous with Maori utu revenge. "Stand thou aside, Banderah, son of Paylap," screamed the old man, waving the bloody hatchet fiercely at him.
Here were Kirghiz, with flat faces like the Kalmucks, dressed in coats of mail: some carried the lance, bows, and arrows of Asiatic manufacture; some the saber, a matchlock gun, and the "tschakane," a little short-handled ax, the wounds from which invariably prove fatal.
Leo drove it, for by that time the Eskimos had taught him how to use the short-handled whip with the lash full fifteen feet long, and Leo was an apt pupil in every athletic and manly exercise. Beside him sat the Captain, Alf, Benjy, and Butterface the black visage of the latter absolutely shining with delight at the novelty of the situation.
She was much interested in everything, and looked out to the mountains eagerly when King had swung her up to her saddle on Blackie, the tall, sober-faced horse, where she sat with a roll of blankets at her back and with the horn before her decorated with a miscellany of camp equipment a frying-pan, a short-handled axe in its sheath, an overcoat done into a compact bundle.
When Olaf came with a basket and some short-handled hoes, the Doctor told Dodo she might take off her shoes and stockings and go down on the sandbar with Nat and Olaf, to dig clams for the chowder for dinner. "More niceness!" screamed Dodo. "Olaf! Olaf! do clams grow in hills like potatoes? I thought they swam like fish! Aren't you coming, uncle, and Rap too, to tell us about clams?"
Crack! crack! crack! crack! crack! "Here comes the estafette from Naples," said mine host of the inn at Terracina, "bring out the relay." The estafette came as usual galloping up the road, brandishing over his head a short-handled whip, with a long knotted lash; every smack of which made a report like a pistol.
He'd been prospecting down the creek, carried his pick over his shoulder threaded through the eye in the heft of his big-bladed, short-handled shovel that hung behind and his gold-dish under his arm. I mightn't get a chance again to explain what a gold-dish and what gold-washing is.
This was due mainly to her efforts, while Daylight, who rode with a short-handled ax on his saddle-bow, cleared the little manzanita wood on the rocky hill of all its dead and dying and overcrowded weaklings. They did not labor at these tasks. Nor were they tasks. Merely in passing, they paused, from time to time, and lent a hand to nature.
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