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Updated: June 23, 2025
Some coarse town humorist would leer upon him from the doorway a leer of furtive, devilish cunning and whisper hoarsely, "Hist! Are we alone?" Struck thus below the belt of his dignity, our hero could only respond: "Aw, that's all right! You g'wan out a' here now an' quit your foolin'!" But criminals seemed to have conspired against Little Arcady, to cheat it of its rightful distinction.
G'wan or I'll punch some of yer faces." "Drag him out, Collins," said Ranse. Curly took a slide and felt the ground rise up and collide with his shoulder blades. He got up and sat on the steps of the store shivering from outraged nerves, hugging his knees and sneering. Taylor lifted out a case of tobacco and wrenched off its top. Six cigarettes began to glow, bringing peace and forgiveness to Sam.
Pike; it was too impossible to strike that frail, crippled, repulsive thing. "It's me that can call you the stiff," said Mulligan Jacobs. "I ain't no Larry. G'wan an' hit me. Why don't you hit me?" And Mr. Pike was too appalled to strike the creature. He, whose whole career on the sea had been that of a bucko driver in a shambles, could not strike this fractured splinter of a man. I swear that Mr.
"I've stealed away, 'cause I was just burstin' to get sight of 'e again, Joan. Faither's home an' I comed off for a walk, creepin' round here an' hopin' as we'd meet. 'Tis mighty wisht to home now you'm gone, I can tell 'e. I've got a sore head yet along o' you." "G'wan, bwoy! Why should 'e?" "Iss so. 'Twas like this.
Here was the place where academic information would be useful and the chance for an "in." Jimmy shoved himself into the small group and said, "Get a longer handle." They turned on him suspiciously. "Whatcha know about it?" demanded one, shoving his chin out. "Get a longer handle," repeated Jimmy. "Go ahead, get one." "G'wan " "Wait, Moe. Maybe " "Who's he?" "I'm Jimmy." "Jimmy who?"
"What you say if we kill a chicken for supper and celebrate." "G'wan, you're joshin' me!" "Nope. I like chicken. And I got one that needs killin'; a no-account ole hen what won't set and won't lay." "Then we'll ring her doggone head off, eh?" "Somethin' like that only I ain't jest hatin' that there hen. She ain't no good, that's all." Young Pete pondered, watching Annersley's grave, bearded face.
"It's got any other kind o' rope beat a mile for strength." "Ever get stretched with one?" Jim Walker asked, with interest. "Nope," Buck replied, "but I seen other fellers that did." "G'wan, spill your yarn about it," said Shorty. "We don't care whether it's true or not." Buck was inclined to be offended. "Say, you all never heard me tell nothin' but th' truth," he snorted.
"You make him talk!" Jim returned scornfully. "All you did was t' make him shut up. Whitey made him talk." "G'wan," Bill retorted. "Didn't them suggestions o' mine 'bout white men an' Injuns start him thinkin' 'bout that bad White Chief hombre? An' didn't I get rid o' Henry Dorgan, 'cause Injun's distrustful of him, an' wouldn't chin with him 'round?"
He niver travels without him. Ye've done it. Ye've arristed wan of the bhoys." Mr. Galer's jaw dropped slightly. "He was? He really was " "Ye'd better go straight to where it was ye locked him up, and let him loose. And I'd suggest ye hand him an apology. G'wan, mister. Lively as you can step." "I never thought " "That's the trouble with you fly cops," said his employer caustically.
"Why," says he, "I am Mr. Ellins." "G'wan!" says I. "You ain't half of him." That reaches his funnybone, too. "You're perfectly right, young man," says he; "but I happen to be his son. Now are you satisfied?" "Nope," says I. "That bluff don't go either. If you was Mr. Robert I'd have been struck by lightnin' long 'fore this. You've got one more guess."
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