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Of course, by rolling the hogshead back to its initial position Johnny was enabled to right himself, and get his foot free from the noose. He started rubbing his shin as though it felt sore after such a rough experience, but they could hear him laughing softly to himself all the while. "I jest reckoned the old thing'd work to beat the band," he told them; "an' now I knows it.
Can't ye see 'ow th' thing'd work?" Dave sat a long time in thought. At last he decided what to do. "Perhaps you're right, Jarvis," he said finally, rising. "But our first job is the Pole. The shaft must be nearly fitted by now. Let's see how they're coming. Perhaps we'll be away in the morning." As they rounded a block of ice by the shore, Jarvis gave a start and seized his companion by the arm.
"I know what ails Bumpus," cried Davy; "his old curiosity bump was working overtime, and coaxed him to climb up there." "Well, how'd I know the old thing'd give in with me like that?" protested the other, faintly. "I saw a bee going in a hole up there; and you know I'm just crazy to find a wild bees' nest in a hollow tree, because I dote on honey.
What could he do when there wasn't another man in th' Valley dared to stand behind him? You saw what happened to Pete. He struck up Courtrey's arm when he shot at Tharon one night last spring. Th' same thing'd happen to Banner if he tried to pull off anythin' like that." A light flamed up in Kenset's eyes.
"I care nothing for his threats." "You should," said Wolverstone. "The wise thing'd be to hang him, along o' all the rest." "It is not human to be wise," said Blood. "It is much more human to err, though perhaps exceptional to err on the side of mercy. We'll be exceptional. Oh, faugh! I've no stomach for cold-blooded killing.
Then every village ought to have a miniature rifle range." "Ye-ees," said the vicar. "Provided, of course, there isn't a constant popping."... "Manage that all right," said my uncle. "Thing'd be a sort of long shed. Paint it red. British colour. Then there's a Union Jack for the church and the village school. Paint the school red, too, p'raps. Not enough colour about now. Too grey.
If it wasn't f'r me, th' poor thing'd have closed down the wurruks, an' gone to th' far-rm long ago. An' wan day, whin he's takin' th' air, p'raps, along comes an Eyetalyan, an' says he, 'Ar-re ye a king? 'That's my name, says his majesty. 'Betther dead, says th' Eyetalyan; an' they'se a scramble, an' another king goes over th' long r-road. "I don't know much about arnychists.
"Certain death, everybody says, unless you're a Bosco. Remember him?" "He eats 'em alive! He eats 'em alive! Bosco! Bosco!" Saxon responded, mimicking the cry of a side-show barker. "Just the same, all Bosco's rattlers had the poison-sacs cut outa them. They must a-had. Gee! It's funny I can't get asleep. I wish that damned thing'd close its trap. I wonder if it is a rattlesnake."
"Say," he said frankly, "I just believe every woman that's the real thing'd like to have a little boy or a little girl or a little something or other. That's why pet cats and dogs have such a cinch of it. And there's men that's the same way. It's sort of nature." "He had such a high spirit and such pretty ways," she said again.
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