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Updated: June 1, 2025
Tip was walking slowly along Main Street, giving a very good imitation of one unconcerned. He turned when he heard the running feet behind him, however. His first impulse seemed to be to take to his heels. But the young jailbird quickly changed his mind, and turned to face them, an inquisitive look on his hard cunning face. "Good evenin', fellers. Where's the fire?" he hailed. "In my eyes!
It all came through trying to help a worthless friend. Why, man, the governor pardoned me, when I had yet two years to serve and restored me to liberty." "But you're a jailbird, just the same," jeered the discharged foreman. "Let the directors find that out, and how quickly they'd drop you from your office!" Mr. Bascomb buried his face in his hands and sobbed aloud.
Jeff always was hot-headed. Before he had got through with Mr. Meldrum, he had mussed his hair up considerable. Dan tried to gun him and got an awful walloping. He hit the trail to Jess Tighe's place. When Mr. Rutherford heard of it, he was annoyed. First off, because of what had happened at the depot. Second, and a heap more important, because the jailbird had threatened Miss Beulah.
David went to one of the big hotels patronized by all well to do Southerners of the day. At the railway station he looked about for the philosophic jailbird, but he was not to be seen. The Virginian drove to the hotel, conscious of a strange loneliness, now that the resourceful rogue was not at his elbow.
Loop 'er, Thunder Bird, loop 'er! You're the little old plane from Arizona that's rode the thunder and made it growl it had enough! In Mexico I got yuh, and to Mexico you went and got me a regular jailbird that Uncle Sammy wants. You're takin' him to camp whoo-ee! Give your tail a flop and over yuh go like a doggone tumbleweed in the wind!
He opened his eyes upon broad day and upon the face of the tall man. He was aware that the short man was shaking Wagg awake in the next bunk. "Two men coming up the side of the mountain; got a slant at 'em through the trees; they're after us!" "Sho!" demurred Wagg. "They're only bird hunters." "We're taking no chances on 'em being jailbird hunters! Are there any holes here in the rocks?"
"Lord! then that jailbird is one of your friends, is he?" he said. He had just lit his pipe. He puffed at it, and deliberately blew the smoke into the little barber's face. Flynn bent over towards him with a sudden motion, and his mild, consequential face in the cloud of smoke changed into something terrible, from its very absurdity.
The Bridewell grounds were on the outskirts of the city and the country around them was unsettled and wild on one side was the big drainage canal, and on the other a maze of railroad tracks, and so the wind had full sweep. After walking a ways, Jurgis met a little ragamuffin whom he hailed: "Hey, sonny!" The boy cocked one eye at him he knew that Jurgis was a "jailbird" by his shaven head.
He makes her say whatever he wants." "It is the truth I am crazy 'bout you," said Nesis. Ambrose sighed. "Listen to me. I tell you straight, if you go with me it will ruin me. I am as good as a jailbird already." She gave her head an impatient shake. "I not understand," she said sadly. "You say it. I guess it is truth." There was a silence. Nesis's childlike brows were bent into a frown.
"Hain't that same kinder rough on us, young feller?" demanded the hobo or escaped jailbird, whichever the taller man might be. "Wot yer gives us only makes us hungrier'n 'ever. Wisht you'd look 'round an' see if yer cain't skeer up somethin' more in the line o' grub. Then we'll stretch out here nigh yer fire, an' git some sleep, 'cause we needs the same right bad."
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