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Updated: May 15, 2025
"The she-kid rustles a jawb as biscuit-shooter in a Swede beanery oveh to Crested Butte, but she was so plum ugly thet she scahed away all thu feeders an' thu boss sues her foh his come-back. Then she hikes out with a tinhawn Greaser an' ketches thu small-pawx down to Taos, an' passes out accordin'!
An' like measles, mumps an' small-pox, it's bettah to happen when he's young. When that Brevoort critter has trimmed Ken's lamps so's they'll burn steady without flickerin' he'll light up yuah life foh all time, honey. An' she's almost got thu jawb done, or I miss my guess!
Only two or three times did the conversation rise to a pitch that kindled even the ready ardor of the young man of letters. Once, after a prolonged silence, the host, having gazed long upon his guest, said, without preface: "Tough jawb you got," and waved a hand toward the hovering children. "Sir," replied the young scholar, "is it not the better to do whilse it is the mo' tough?
There were ludicrous incidents, too, though never lacking in a certain pathos. The wife of a Russian striker had her husband arrested because he had burned her clothes in order to prevent her returning to the mill. From the police station he sent a compatriot with a message to Headquarters. "Oye, he fix her! She no get her jawb now she gotta stay in bed!" this one cried triumphantly.
There were ludicrous incidents, too, though never lacking in a certain pathos. The wife of a Russian striker had her husband arrested because he had burned her clothes in order to prevent her returning to the mill. From the police station he sent a compatriot with a message to Headquarters. "Oye, he fix her! She no get her jawb now she gotta stay in bed!" this one cried triumphantly.
I been try evva since meck out what he say. Yass. An' I jis meck it out! He say, 'Watch out, watch out, 'Mian Roussel and dat book-fellah dawn't put op jawb on you. Well, I'm a fool, but I know. You put op jawb on me; I know. But dass all right I don't take no book." He laughed with the rest, scratched his tipsy head, and backed out through the pieux.
"I reckon that were thu best jawb yuh evah done, Lew," says the cowboy with much conviction. Ballard, dropping his eyes unaccountably, hesitates long over his selection of a fresh weed. "What the hell else was there to do?" he says gruffly. But the recording angel, looking kindly and indulgently at the honest face, smiles softly and forgets the pen in his hand.
There were ludicrous incidents, too, though never lacking in a certain pathos. The wife of a Russian striker had her husband arrested because he had burned her clothes in order to prevent her returning to the mill. From the police station he sent a compatriot with a message to Headquarters. "Oye, he fix her! She no get her jawb now she gotta stay in bed!" this one cried triumphantly.
But when he grasped the honored hand, he also held it, fixing upon its owner a generous and somewhat bacchanalian smile. "I'm a fool, but I know. You been put op a jawb on me. Dass four, five days now I been try to meck out what dat niggah at Belle Alliance holla to me when I gallop down de road." Well, dat night I mit him comin' fum Gran' Point' and he hol' at me.
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