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Updated: June 23, 2025
"'I'll go you, by gosh! says the bull-whacker, slapping his hat on the ground and digging for his pile. "'Say, if you're referring to me, Ag, I says, 'it's kind of a sudden spring I ain't what you might call in training, and that steer is full of triple-extract of giant powder. "'G'wan! says Ag. 'You can do it and then we're twenty-five ahead. "'But suppose we lose?
Red had long since given it up as a bad job, though continuing to search, when a shout from the distant Hopalong sent him forward on a run. "Hey, Red!" cried Hopalong, pointing ahead of them. "Look there! Ain't that a house?" "Naw; course not! It's a it's a ship!" Red snorted sarcastically. "What did you think it might be?" "G'wan!" retorted his companion. "It's a mission." "Ah, g'wan yoreself!
He took it away drenched with bright, arterial blood, and threw it carefully into a clump of prickly pear. Then he slashed with his quirt again, gasped "G'wan" to his astonished pony, and galloped after the gang. That night Raidler received a message from his old home in Alabama. There had been a death in the family; an estate was to divide, and they called for him to come.
He learned there was little good in saying, "Aw, g'wan!" to a dapper young lieutenant if they clapped you into the guard-house for saying it. There was little point to throwing down your shovel and refusing to shovel coal if they clapped you into the guard house for doing it; and made you shovel harder than ever when you came out.
"'Pardon me, friend, whined my companion, stepping out in front of him, 'but can't you give a fellow a lift? I'm a mechanic by trade, and "'Oh, cut it out! said the fat man, leering knowingly. 'I'm on to what you're going to say. Why don't you fellows vary your song and dance just for luck? G'wan. Get out of the way! And he tried to side-step us.
Where they were, parks are being made to-day in which the sign "Keep off the grass!" will never be seen. The children may walk in them from morning till night, and I too, if I want to, with no policeman to drive us off. I tried to tell the policeman something about it. But he was of the old dispensation. All the answer I got was a gruff: "G'wan now! I don't want none o' yer guff!"
With an aggrieved air, akin to that of a crowd at a cricket match when batsmen are playing for a draw, they began to "barrack." They hooted the Three Pointers. They begged them to go home and tuck themselves up in bed. The men on the roof were mostly Irishmen, and it offended them to see what should have been a spirited fight so grossly bungled. "G'wan away home, ye quitters!" roared one.
Say! dat's swell, all right. I'd like to see dat, I would!" He took off his cap, and from the top extracted a telegram and a receipt sheet. "I'm Joe Strong," said our hero quietly. "G'wan!" answered the messenger. "Why, he must be a big guy to do all de bills says he does rescuin' a diver an' all dat! G'wan!"
Little boys in England are very fond of cigarette pictures, little cards there reproducing "old English flowers." I used to save them to give to children. Once I gave a number to the ringleader of a group. I was about to tell him to divide them up. "Oh, we'll share them, sir," he said. At home such a boy might have said to the others: "G'wan, these're fer me."
G'wan, Chieftain, er Mister Car-na-gy here'll be after givin' us a lib'ry." Chieftain, and Tim, too, for that matter, were nearer actual freedom than ever before. For years the big Norman had used his magnificent muscles only for straining at the traces. He had trod only the hard pavements.
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