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In a dawn that came up as pink as the palm of a babe, but flowed rather futilely against the tired, speckled eye of incandescent bulb dangling above the Granite Jaw's rumpled, tumbled bed of pain, a gray-looking group stood in whispered conference beside a slit of window that overlooked a narrow clapboard slit of street. THE DOCTOR: Even with recovery, he will be on his back at least six months.
As Uncle Jaw's "medder land" was by nature half bog and bulrushes, and therefore liable to be found in a wet condition, there was always a happy obscurity as to where the water came from, and whether there was at any time more there than belonged to his share.
'Jaw's not such a bad chap after all; worse chaps in the world than Jaw. And his lordship worked away at the point till he very nearly got him up to be a good chap. They say it never rains but it pours, and letters seldom come singly; at least, if they do they are quickly followed by others.
"Lay off that noise," said Jastrow the Granite Jaw, threatening to dangle him head downward. "Lay off, or I'll drown you like a kitten!" With an agility that could have swung him from bough to bough, the Baron de Ross somersaulted astride the rear of Jastrow the Granite Jaw's great neck, pounding little futile fists against the bulwark of head. "Leggo me! Leggo!" "Gr-r-r-r!
"I heard 'em tell, Deacon Enos, that the squire served you something of an unhandy sort of trick about that 'ere lot of land." Still Deacon Enos made no reply; but Uncle Jaw's perseverance was not so to be put off, and he recommenced.
"Soon enough ye'll find out what I mean, Thirkle; that's what. If the two of ye think yer going to side together ag'in' me, well and good; but look out for Bad Buckrow, I say. I'll make my meanin' blasted clear, too. Mind that." "My jaw's broke!" cried Petrak, struggling to his feet, breathing hard.
At this moment, out from the heart of the thicket plunged a towering black form, with wide, snarling jaw's agleam in the moonlight. It seemed to launch itself through the air, as if from a height. One great, taloned paw struck the young cow full on the neck, a crashing blow, shattering the vertebrae through all their armour of muscle.
This was the introduction to one of Uncle Jaw's periodical visits to Deacon Enos, who was sitting with his usual air of mild abstraction, looking into the coals of a bright November fire, while his busy helpmate was industriously rattling her knitting needles by his side.
Moreover, he had such a marvellous facility of finding out matters to quarrel about, and of letting every one else know where they, too, could muster a quarrel, that he generally succeeded in keeping the whole neighborhood by the ears. And as good Deacon Enos assumed the office of peace-maker for the village, Uncle Jaw's efficiency rendered it no sinecure.
"Yes, I know all your traps, of all the sizes you use, from muskrat up to bear!" interrupted the Boy. "What size do you use for the beaver?" "Number four," answered Jabe. "Jaw's got a spread of six and one-half inches or thereabouts. But it's all in the where an' the how ye set yer trap!" "And that's what I want to know about!" said the Boy. "But why don't you shoot the poor little beggars?
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