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"Maybe I will, some day," answered the would-be poet modestly. "I dink I make some boetry up, too," remarked Hans, after several minutes of serious thought on his part. "Chust you listen vonce!" And he began: "Dis is der day ven crackers bust Und fill der air mid bowder tust, Und ven you shoots your bistol off, You make a smokes vot makes you cough.
Chust so much what it weigh in gold. Nobody but de nobles drink him in Bohemie. Many, many years I save him up, dis Tokai." Joe whipped out his official corkscrew and delicately removed the cork. "De old man die what bring him to me, an' dis wine he lay on his belly in my cellar an' sleep. An' now," carefully pouring out the heavy yellow wine, "an' now he wake up; and maybe he wake us up, too!"
Then the carpetbag came down, struck Hans on the head and knocked him to a sitting position on the grass. "Sarves ye roight for torturin' our ears wid thot croupy flute, ye bologna sausage!" laughed Mulloy. "Pologna sissage! Pologna sissage!" howled Hans. "You vos chust as sauciness as I efer vos! Vy don'd I learnt some manners dot vould make a chentleman uf you!"
"Take crate care of him, dear Montame Zipod," answered Schmucke, and he tried to take the portress' hand. "Oh! look here now, again." "Chust listen to me. You shall haf all dot I haf, gif ve safe him." "Very well; I will go round to the chemist's to get the things that are wanted; this illness is going to cost a lot, you see, sir, and what will you do?"
"There are the good words I could be saying," says she in a whisper, "but the minister is no' for them." "Whatna good words?" "Och, chust to be calling on the saints, St Peter and St Paul mora, but Paul wass the lad," and she brisked up a wee at that, and whispered, "There are them I could be naming, Hamish, that St Paul would be curing.
But how was it DONE that's what I want to know. How was it done? Is it conjuring, or what? 'I think it is chust a ver' bad tream, said old Levinstein to his clerk; 'all along Bishopsgate I haf seen the gommon people have their hants full of food GOOT food. Oh yes, without doubt a very bad tream!
Then he approached the group about Bert, calling out something about "mitbringen." An earnest-faced, emaciated man with a white moustache appealed to Bert. "Herr Booteraidge, sir, we are chust to start!" "Where am I?" Bert repeated. Some one shook him by the other shoulder. "Are you Herr Booteraidge?" he asked.
He laid down on the mass the pile of foreign magazines he had brought under his arm. "They gave me another address first." "Yes. I have chust gome here," said Lindau. "Idt is not very coy, Neigh?" "It might be gayer," March admitted, with a smile. "Still," he added, soberly, "a good many people seem to live in this part of the town. Apparently they die here, too, Lindau.
"I chust so vell vear mine cap alretty." As the party progressed the way become more uncertain, and at last they reached the edge of a swamp, beyond which was some kind of a canebrake. They saw numerous footprints in the soft soil, and these led further still to the westward. "Listen!" said Dick, presently, and held up his hand.
The Forest Monster is already bigger than the lot of you, and he will come for you sooner or later if you don't let us stop him!" "Vorest Monzter?" echoed the great shark. "That's what I said," replied Lisa angrily. "Chust vat iss ze Vorest Monzter made uff?" asked the shark. "Er, I don't know. Whatever monsters are usually made of," answered the female owl. "Flesh and blood, I guess."
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