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"Garn, Frawgs!" he sneered, to the resentful Frenchman. "Yer 'yn't fit ter sye ther time o' dye ter 'er; yer knows yer 'yn't." "Wat? To ze daughtaire of a flute!" the Second-Violin replied. "W'y " "Garn!" said the drummer. "Sye, yer myke me sick! You, with yer black-'aired fyce an' paytent boots!
Both cities had signs all over 'em claiming to furnish the Tulare frawg. And both had 'em all right. And same as cattle trains, yu'd see frawg trains tearing acrosst Arizona big glass tanks with wire over 'em through to New York, an' the frawgs starin' out." "Why, George," whispered a woman's voice behind me, "he's merely deceiving them! He's merely making that stuff up out of his head."
What outlet did yu' give me? Didn't I have it to do? And I'll tell yu' one thing for your consolation: when I got to the middle of the frawgs I 'most believed it myself." And he laughed out the first laugh I had heard him give. The enthusiast came up and shook hands. That led off, and the rest followed, with Trampas at the end. The tide was too strong for him.
"Well, ain't it better than loafin' around yer billets all day, thinkin' an' cursin' an' wishin' ye was home?" spoke up the man who sat the other side, pounding down the tobacco in his pipe with a thick forefinger. "It makes me sick, trampin' round this way in ranks all day with the goddam frawgs starin' at us an'..." "They're laughin' at us, I bet," broke in another voice.
Delmonico and Saynt Augustine wiped frawgs off the slate of fashion. Not a banker in Fifth Avenue'll touch one now if another banker's around watchin' him. And if ever yu' see a man that hides his feet an' won't take off his socks in company, he has worked in them Tulare swamps an' got the disease. Catch him wadin', and yu'll find he's web-footed. Frawgs are dead, Trampas, and so are you."
"It was a dead county, and only frawgs was movin'. But that business was a-fannin' to beat four of a kind. It made yu' feel strange at first, as I said. For all the men had been cattle-men at one time or another. Till yu' got accustomed, it would give 'most anybody a shock to hear 'em speak about herdin' the bulls in a pasture by themselves."
Omar Ben had never had a fight, and yet the memory of inheritance had waked within him, revealing other traits besides his yearning for debauchery and "frawgs"; so now he squared himself and uncurled his velvet toes. Ash-Can Sam crouched low and came in with a headlong rush. Omar Ben side-stepped and raked him with a stiffly extended paw.
Le Moyne," said the Virginian, "the outfit's cookin' stuff is aboard, and if you'll get the fire ready, we'll try how frawgs' laigs go fried." He walked off at once, the man following like a dog. Inside the caboose rose a gust of laughter. "Frogs!" muttered Scipio. And then turning a blank face to me, "Frogs?" "Colonel Cyrus Jones had them on his bill of fare," I said. "Shoo!
"I'd present 'em with a swift kick, and a hell of a lot of other people, too." "So we have to sweat unloadin' cement all day," muttered Hoggenback, "to give these goddam frawgs a stadium." "If it weren't that it'd be somethin' else." "But, ain't we got folks at home to work for?" cried Hoggenback. "Mightn't all this sweat be doin' some good for us? Building a stadium! My gawd!"
"Not forty per cent the bad years," replied the Virginian. "The frawgs had enemies, same as cattle. I remember when a pelican got in the spring pasture, and the herd broke through the fence " "Fence?" said a passenger. "Ditch, seh, and wire net. Every pasture was a square swamp with a ditch around, and a wire net. Yu've heard the mournful, mixed-up sound a big bunch of cattle will make?
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