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Updated: May 10, 2025
The entire line, horses, buggies, wagons, gigs, dogs, men and boys on foot, and armed with clubs, moved slowly across the fields, sending up a cloud of white dust, that hung above the scene like smoke. A brisk gaiety was in the air. Everyone was in the best of humor, calling from team to team, laughing, skylarking, joshing.
T. Tembarom took it gravely. "I said to her once that there wasn't more than one of her in the world because there couldn't be enough to make two of that kind. I wasn't joshing either; I meant it. It's her quiet little voice and her quiet, babyfied eyes that get you where you can't move. And it's something else you don't know anything about.
"I'm a hero, the real live article, T. Blake, C. E. H. E., R. O. Oh!" "No joshing, you Injin," admonished Griffith, pausing with a lighted match above the bowl of his pipe. Lord James gazed reproachfully at the grinning Blake. "He tries to belittle it, Mr. Griffith, but it's quite true. Haven't you seen about it in the press?"
"Yes?" says I. "Seems to me I saw an item about him in the theatrical notes yesterday, something about his being a. w. o. l. Kind of joshing, it read, like they didn't take it serious." "That's the disgusting part of it," says Mr. Robert.
I reckon that one has run away, I don't see him anywhere." Poor Scrub was standing first on one foot and then on the other, fairly squirming with embarrassment. Ted gave the boys the nod to cease teasing the boy. "Don't mind those fellows, they're only joshing," said Ted. "Oh, I don't mind it if they can get any fun out of it," said Scrub, with a smile.
There were too many sword points ready to let it out." And yet, despite their good-natured "joshing" of Tom, they, quite as much as he, were eager for excitement and adventure. In the fullest sense they were "birds of a feather."
"Like the day of the flood or the night Dad Robins was killed. He can handle fifteen hundred men better'n I handle my three. Now you watch him. Those there fellows he's joshing have been with him seven years. You ought to hear their stories about driving the tunnel up on the Makon. Say, he'd go right in with 'em. Never asked 'em to go somewhere he wouldn't go himself.
Amazement grew in her eyes, amazement and a kind of fear. "Quit joshing!" she implored him, and he found it difficult to cope with her style of conversation. For a while she gazed helplessly at the bill of fare. "I guess you'll think it's funny," she said hesitatingly, "but I feel just like a good beefsteak and potatoes. Bring a thick one, Walter." The waiter sauntered off.
Quit your joshing, Stella; hand it to Ben. He likes it, and the thicker it is the more he can stand of it." "Hello! Breakfast!" called Song from the veranda, and they all trooped back to the living room to finish breakfast and talk about the things they had passed through, and to lay plans for the coming round-up festivities.
He strove to arouse the other. "Talk about game cocks!" he began lightly. "Ten years ago, say! you must have been a corker regular 'Terry McGovern'." "Eh?" Yorke's far-away eyes stared at him vaguely. "I was in India then. Army light-weight champion in my day. Slavin wasn't joshing much at breakfast, by gum! . . . Now we're here! . . . We're a bright pair!"
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