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Updated: May 25, 2025
I stood it until here the other mornin' when a bunch of soreheads showed up before nine o'clock and proceeds to hold an indignation meetin' in front of my desk. "Gwan!" says I. "Nobody's rockin' the boat but you. Go sit on your checkbooks." They just glares at me. "Where is Old Hickory?" one of 'em wants to know. "About now," says I, "Mr.
Gwan away f'm here, Po'-Boy; dat gemmen ain't gwine feed you nuthin. You keep yo' dirty paws offen his close. Come in, suh. Take care you don't fall thoo dat ol' po'ch flo'; hit 'bout ready to go t' pieces, but I 'way behind on rent, so I cain't ask 'em to have hit fixed. Dis ol' house aint fitten fer nobody t' live in; winder glass gone an' roof leaks.
"He he's the guy," says Hunk, "the very guy!" "Wha-a-at?" says I, followin' the look in them wide-set pop eyes of his. "Who is?" "Him," says he, pointin' to Cuyler. "He's a reg'lar guy, he is; the spit and image of what I been wantin' to connect with these last six months. Say, Shorty, put me next." "Gwan!" says I. "You ain't supposed to exist. Paint your funnels black and run the blockade."
Andy's tone was deceitfully hearty. He did not sound in the least as if he would like to choke Happy Jack, though that was his secret longing. "Aw, gwan. I betche I could make as purty a ride as we've saw lately." Happy Jack did not quite like to make the thing too personal, for fear of what might happen after. "Yuh mean last night, don't yuh?" purred Andy.
"Dem wa' Massa South Ca'lina gwan to whip de 'Nited States wid Massa Goberna' order 'em last year, an 'e jus' come. Good masse gwan' to fight fo' we wid 'em." The poor old man seemed to take a great interest in the pieces of ordnance as they passed along, and to have inherited all the pompous ideas of his master.
"The chest was locked; I never opened it." Old Dock nodded his head gravely. "She lock," he assented, gently. "She mooch mediceen she wort' mooch mooney. De key, she in mine pocket " "Oh, I don't give a damn where the key is now," flared Weary. "I guess Patsy'll have to cash in; that's all." "Aw, gwan!" cried Happy Jack. "A sheepman come along just after you left, and he had a quart uh whisky.
He leaned forward in the saddle and ogled the bug-killer with horrid significance. "Git busy with that bresh!" he yelled authoritatively, when a glance showed him that the Happy Family was hesitating and eyeing him uncertainly. "Git a fire goin' quick's yuh kin I'll do the rest. Down in Coconino county we used to have a way uh fixin' sheepherders " "Aw, gwan!
"How the devil am I going to send him any positive prints at ten cents a foot or ten cents an inch or any other price? Till I get that shipment of positive, I can't fill any orders at all! And until I begin to fill orders, I can't realize on the film. Can you beat that? I'll have to wire him to wait, and that's two thousand dollars tied up!" "Aw, gwan!" Happy Jack croaked argumentatively.
"It is that I am no more permitted the privilege of preparing the food for fich I have the judgment, yes?" His voice purred too much to be convincing. "It is that I am no more the chef to be obeyed by my servant?" "Aw, gwan! I ain't anybody's servant that I ever heard of!" Happy Jack felt himself bewilderedly slipping from his loyalty. What had come over Jakie, to act like this?
Those who watched saw him stoop and thrust his head into the tent, heard a bellow and saw him back out hastily. They chuckled unfeelingly and strained ears to miss no word of what would follow. "Aw, gwan!" Happy Jack expostulated, not yet angry. "I got here quick as I could and I ain't heard nothing about no new laws uh getting here when the whistle blows. Gimme what there is, anyhow."
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