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Updated: May 13, 2025
"Hell!" said Casey, breathing deep when, stomach full and resentment toward the past blurred by satisfaction with his present, he filled his pipe and fingered his vest pocket for a match. "Gas stoves can't cook nothin' so there's any taste to it. That there's the first real meal I've et in six months. Light a match and turn on the gas and call that a fire! Hunh!
"Doggone!" he exclaimed, finally. "I hardly knew you when you stepped off that train, but it seems like old times now, with you hustlin' around in that gingham." "I wish it was." "Hunh?" "I wish, sometimes, that we'd never struck oil." "Good Lord! Why?" "Oh" Allie turned her back and bent over the stove "for lots of reasons! Ma never had a sick day till lately. Now she's failin' fast."
Got silk shirts like this " he plucked at his own silken sleeve " got lots of jam all the time. Every day drinks whisky and eats jam." "Hunh!" Injun Jim ran his forefinger dexterously around the inside of a jelly glass and licked the finger with the nonchalance of a two-year-old. "Hunh. Got heap big gol' mine, me. No can go ketchum two year, mebby. I dunno. Feet no damn good for walk.
"What's the matter with that, Skyrider? Kain't I make up po'try if I want to?" "Sure. Help yourself you poor fish. Vollup! Hunh!" The contempt was even more pronounced than before. "Well? What's the matter with that? You said it yourself. And look out how you go peddlin' names around here. You think nobody knows anything but you!
"Charlie Werner? Hunh! Say, Pop, she ain't no squaw is she, Loney?" Sid Sterling remonstrated. "If I can read brands," Lone testified, "she's no girl of Bob's. She's a good, honest girl when she ain't crazy." "And no good, honest girl who is not crazy could possibly be a girl of mine! Is that the idea, Lone?"
"Hunh! a lot you know about it!" snorted Johnny, and turned and walked away to the other side of the machine where Tomaso's brother could not see him grin. "No matter what kind of a cheese you are, you must know an airplane can't fly without a fuselage," he grumbled to the unhappy brother of Tomaso. "Without that the plane's no good to me or anybody else. You better get busy and hunt it up."
Johnny cast a suspicious eye down at him, and Cliff held up the package. "I want to take this along rockets; to let them know we're coming. Then they'll have flares for us to land by." "Been planning on some night-riding, hunh?" "Naturally; I would plan for every contingency that could possibly arise." "Hunh. That covers them planes that have been line-riding over this way, too, I reckon."
He repeated something which sounded like an impromptu litany and had to do with the ultimate disposal of his own soul. "Hunh?" asked Sandy. Whereupon Ford, being harassed mentally and in great physical discomfort as well, specifically disposed of Sandy's immortal soul also. Sandy merely grinned at him. "You don't want to take it to heart like that," he remonstrated cheerfully.
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