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"He talks all spraddled out," said Cactus, "'bout the rookuses he's been in. He claims to have saw the elephant and hearn the owl." "I know," replied Bud, using the cowpuncher's expressive phrase of skepticism, "but it sounds to me!" This conversation was held one night in camp while the other members of the band eight in number were sprawling around the fire, lingering over their supper.
"No; I didn't," answered the farmer. "Don't believe there is any mad dog along the way, either. I've reined up and talked with neighbors during the last hour and a half along the way. They didn't mention nothin' 'bout any peevish dogs. Now, it stands to reason that the officers would have stopped and warned folks along the road, don't it?
"How should I deceive him, Mr. Canby?" she asked, her voice still unchanging. "Perhaps I put it too baldly. But I'm not in the habit; of mincing words. Jerry is no plaything. I'll give you an instance of how much in earnest he is." And then briefly, but with some sense of the color of the thing, I gave her a description of Jerry's bout with Sagorski.
"We're bound for Palm Beach. Don't we look it?" someone snarled in reply. But Fuselli had seen a familiar face. He was shaking hands with two browned men whose faces were grimy with days of travelling in freight cars. "Hullo, Chrisfield. Hullo, Andrews!" he cried. "When did you fellows get over here?" "Oh, 'bout four months ago," said Chrisfield, whose black eyes looked at Fuselli searchingly.
His pose, as he leaned on the rock, had a muscular picturesque-ness. "Who be ye a-talkin' about?" he drawled. Peters relished his opportunity. He laughed in a distorted fashion, his pipe-stem held between his teeth. "You-uns ain't wantin' ter swop lies 'bout sech ez him, Luke! We war a-talkin' 'bout Tobe Gryce." The color flared into the new-comer's face. A sudden animation fired his eye.
He took Huck to a lonely place to have a talk with him. It would be some relief to unseal his tongue for a little while; to divide his burden of distress with another sufferer. Moreover, he wanted to assure himself that Huck had remained discreet. "Huck, have you ever told anybody about that?" "'Bout what?" "You know what." "Oh 'course I haven't." "Never a word?"
At ten o'clock the master proposed tacking the ship, and the first-lieutenant went down to report his wish to the captain. "Very well, Mr Nourse," replied the captain; "turn the hands up." "Ay, ay, sir," replied the first-lieutenant, leaving the cabin. "Call the boatswain, quarter-master all hands 'bout ship."
Only for some reason he hadn't the phrases and he hadn't the voice to assert this over their wrangling and their stiff resolution. He wanted to think the whole business out thoroughly, for the moment he had nothing to say, and there was the labour leader opposite waiting smilingly to hear what he had to say so soon as the bout between the vicar and the rationalist was over.
There's ice in the air. I can smell it. Feel the difference in temperature? Ice, all right. An' that means two things. We're nigh one of the Aleutians, an' Bering Strait is full of ice. Early, a bit, but there's nothin' reg'lar 'bout the way ice forms. I've got a strong hunch something'll break before we make the Strait. "There's one thing in our favor.
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