United States or Western Sahara ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
A man who is so thin-blooded that the one way he can get work out of himself is to make money the man who grows rich by ordering, by gobbling, and by hiring gobblers and plodders, cannot function under the new conditions.
The secret of modern industry is the secret of the man who loves his work. To the sporting man, the gentleman, the man who loves the game, the prize goes now in competition with Gobblers and Plodders. The Engineer or Winner instead of the Compeller of Men is going to draw out new kinds and new sizes of laboring men in industry at every point.
"You'll find him in front of the farmhouse." Turkey Proudfoot didn't thank her. He was so angry that he was almost choking. And he strode off with a gleam in his eyes that the younger gobblers knew only too well and feared. On the lawn before Farmer Green's house Turkey Proudfoot saw such a sight as he had never expected to behold.
My man Tom used to fetch home gobblers like that.... An' mebbe he'll come home again sometime." Her husband, Tom Cass, had gone into the forest years before and had never returned. But the old woman always looked for him and never gave up hope. "Men have been lost in the forest an' yet come back," replied Dale, as he had said to her many a time. "Come right in. You air hungry, I know.
We returned to camp and I started out on foot to find some fresh meat, and had gone but a short distance when I ran on to a band of wild turkeys, and killed two fat gobblers. Turkeys seemed to keep fat in that country the year around, as those that I killed were very fat.
"I don't know why any more than I know why turkey gobblers and bulls don't like red," answered her grandmother. "But we had better get out of this meadow. I didn't know the ram was so saucy, or we should have gone around another way." "Will he bite us?" Margy went on. "Oh, no. He may try to hit us with his head. But that won't hurt much, as his horns are curved, and not sharp.
Did you ever hunt?" "No." "Wal, you've shore missed a lot of fun," he said. "Turkey huntin'. Thet's what fetches the gurls. I reckon because turkeys are so good to eat. The old gobblers hev begun to gobble now. I'll take you gobbler huntin' if you'd like to go." "I'm sure I would." "There's good trout fishin' along heah a little later," he said, pointing to the stream. "Crick's too high now.
He was jet black, with white paws and dickey, and he had as much dignity as ten cats. Jims' fingers tingled to stroke him. Jims had never been allowed to have even a kitten because Aunt Augusta had a horror of cats. And you cannot stroke gobblers!
Several gobblers as well as hens had run away on her approach; at last they rose into the air one after the other, flapping their wings until they settled down on a tall piñon that was visible from where the woman stood. There were four birds on the tree. With necks extended and eyelids alternately opening and shutting, they peered down on her, ready to soar away at the least suspicious motion.
He saw the black thing far ahead that resembled a burned stump, but he knew was a bear before it vanished; he saw gray flash of deer and wolf and coyote, and the red of fox, and the small, wary heads of old gobblers just sticking above the grass; and he saw deep tracks of game as well as the slow-rising blades of bluebells where some soft-footed beast had just trod.
Word Of The Day