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"But not too hard," Masters added. "If we're going to be rabbits, human values will change. Men who run into holes will live to eat turnips, those who bare their teeth won't. Orkins might be the forefather of a new race a helluva race. Come on, Orkins. Get out. Hurry up, Father Abraham, or I'll drag you out." Orkins, cringing, emerged.
No, Jack says that she's a lady in need, who lives in the pocket of her father's white serge coat that hangs behind his stateroom door; and she's in a helluva lot of trouble, but Jack doesn't know where else she is, so we're going to comb out the universe and find her! Get the idea?" "I will drink some coffee," he stammered, and disappeared.
He stared into the face of Isaiah Trench. And driving the truck was Sheila. "Your wife took a helluva chance, Gordon," Trench said heavily. "And I took quite a chance, too, to set this up so nobody could ever believe you were behind it. Getting that fight started in time, after you first showed up oh, sure, we spotted you was the toughest job I ever did!
Mine hasn't come, and I'm frantic, simply frantic. Well, why don't you go?" "I'll hook you up," said Freddy. "You!" "Sure! I kin do it better'n any maid you'd get in this helluva school." "Why, Freddy!" "Aw, I heard you sayin' damn! You're in the p'fession, huh? Me, too." "You, too?" His face clouded. "Oh! And now you have retired?" "Yeah learnin' to be a gem'mum.
Gilfoyle was poet enough to enjoy a little extra doldrums at what might have made a longshoreman peevish. He mopped sweat and fanned himself with a newspaper till he grew frantic. He flung down the paper and rose with a yawn. "Well, this is one helluva honeymoon. I'm going to crawl into the oven and fry." Kedzie sat alone in the dark parlor a long while. She was cold now.
I lifted him, holding him up, while somebody got some water. We bathed his face and washed off the blood. Presently he revived, and smiled at me, and staggered out of my hold. "Helluva note that saddle slipped!" he complained. Manifestly he had acquired some of Joe Isbel's strong language.
A guy with a dream or perhaps a prescient glimpse of his own future. "What's a pal supposed to do?" he growled. "For a helluva long time you've answered nobody though everyone in the Bunch must have tried beaming you." "Sure, Frank... Blame, from me, would be way out of line. I heard you guys lots of times.
I heered this big 'whoosh' and turned around in time to see the lid fly off and the kettle begin to tip into the fire and then there was one helluva blast. It knocked me clean under the tractor shed." He fumbled in his pocket for a cigarette and shakily lighted it. Hetty peered out over the yard and then looking up, gasped.
"Then it's a helluva law that lets a feller take away the home of two women." "They's lots of times," observed Dolan, judicially, "when I think she's a helluva law, too. But what you gonna do? Under the law one man's word is as good as another's till he's proved a liar. And two men's words are better than one, and so on.
Settlers on their way home, starting for Pierre, hurried by in the middle of the night. Art Fergus's team of scrubby broncos were so tired they didn't even balk in harness. Flivvers bumped over the rough ground, chugging like threshing machines. Cowboys rode in from the far ranges for one helluva time. They didn't kowtow to this "draw-land" game, but they could play draw poker.
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