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Updated: June 11, 2025
"Iverybody clear out!" cried Jimmy. "Number one is coming down. Get the coffee sack ready. Baste cooney over the head and shove him in before the dogs tear the skin. We want a dandy big pelt out of this!" There was a crack, and the tree fell with a crash.
Here, Mister O'Khayam, here's a good place to stand. Gee, what luck! Coon in sight first thing, and Mellen's food coon at that! Shoot, Mister O'Khayam, shoot!" The Thread Man lifted the wavering gun, but it was no use. "Tell you what, Ruben," said Jimmy. "You are too tired to shoot straight. Let's take a rist, and ate our lunch. Then we'll cut down the tree and let the dogs get cooney.
Footsteps above suggested that Chas and Aunt Molly were making a careful toilet indeed for his call upon the obscure inamorata. In the Cooney parlor, the two girls looked at each other. Carlisle tried hard to stare Hen down, and failed. In this moment she felt that she positively disliked her commonly negligible cousin.
And Carlisle, her glance returning toward him, but not to him, heard with disquiet and mortification her own voice saying, not indignantly at all: "You will have to speak to my father about it if if injustice has been done. I I haven't time to go to the Works now " "Time!" cried Hen Cooney, at last assuming control of things. "Why, good heavens, Cally! It wouldn't take us any time!
But if Cally had desired a sign of how much this subject had been on her mind since her talk with Vivian she could have found it in the mingling sensations that rose in her now. For this little apparition at her elbow so she had learned incidentally through Hen Cooney, who knew everything was the connecting link in the whole argument.
Round Cally the Cooney talk rattled on; family jokes kept flickering up; strange catchwords evoked unexpected laughter.
"Why, Cooney Finnigan, if he could skin the devil himself and ait him afterwards, she wouldn't have him. She has refused some of the best looking young men in the parish, widout either rhyme or raison, an' I'm sure she's not goin' to take your leprechaun of a son, that you might run a five-gallon keg between his knees.
I warned you I told you he wasn't deep enough. O Lord, have mercy . . . mercy . . . !" He pattered off into a prayer, his voice and teeth chattering. "Hush!" commanded the Gaffer gently; and Lashman choked on a sob. "It ain't bears," Cooney reported, still with his ear to the door. "Leastways . . . we've had bears before. The foxes, maybe . . . let me listen."
We next layed out the wolves, an' arter that cooney, an' then we tuk our time about the deer these last and the bar bein' the only valley'ble things on the island. The skunk we kilt last, as we didn't want the thing to stink us off the place while we wur a-skinnin' the deer. "Arter killin' the skunk, we mounted an' left, of coorse loaded with our bar-meat an' venison. "I got my rifle arter all.
Nothing; there was nothing to be heard. They crept back to the fire, and stood there warming themselves, keeping their eyes on the latch. It did not move. After a while Cooney slipped off to his hammock; Faed to his bunk, alongside Lashman's. The Gaffer had picked up his book again.
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