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I tell him many's the time it's in the asylum he should be, but sure, you might as well talk to the potstick as talk to him. He'll drive you to the station with a heart an' a han', and the capers of him when you both come back'll be like nothin' on God's earth!" "So long as he doesn't capsize us both into the ditch!..." "Him capsize you! I'd warm his lug for him if he dar'd to do such a thing!..."
He laid his soldering iron down and massaged the small of his back, grimacing slightly. "Oh, me! I'll swear my back'll never be the same again. But that ought to do it, at last." He looked at the equipment before him and grinned ruefully. "Of all the haywire messes. It started out so nice. And it ended up so awful."
Won't fit any horse that packs in these hills. Doggone it, his back'll be as raw as a piece of beefsteak and if there's anything in this world that I hate it's to pack a sore-backed horse. "You can bet I wouldn't a made this trip for money if I wasn't so plumb anxious to see how Dubois saves that flour gold.
Yore a sumptious marshal, yu are! Yore th' snortingest ki-yi that ever stuck its tail atween its laigs, yu are. Yu pop-eyed wall flower, yu wants to peep to yoreself or some papoose'll slide yu over th' Divide so fast yu won't have time to grease yore pants. Pick up that license-tag an' let me see you perculate so lively that yore back'll look like a ten-cent piece in five seconds. Flit!"
If she was half as good, mebby we would. You never done much fancy pick-handle exercise, did you?" "No, but I'm going to. This beats signing checks all to pieces." "Never got cramps that way myself," grunted Overland. "But I have from swingin' a pick. Your back'll be so blame stiff in about three days that you'll wish you never seen a pan or a shovel.
Cuttin' back'll make the berries big; and so they'll bring as much, p'raps, as if they were early." "Well, Merton, this all accords with what I've read, only Mr. Jones makes it much clearer. I think we know how to go to work now, and surely there's plenty to do." "Yes, indeed," resumed Mr. Jones; "and you'll soon find the work crowdin' you.
"His back'll be bad to-morrow if he lies on the floor." "The ugly man will make him go to bed, because if he doesn't they won't have anywhere to walk," she said, determined to save his arm at any cost. "D'you think so?" he asked eagerly. "Yes, quite sure. He'll be quite safe. Where's your nighty?" He darted into Number 15 and came back with a minute bundle. "I don't have to have nighties now.
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