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Updated: June 26, 2025
"Now take a little nap, an' I'll send word over to Elder Jones's thet you ain't feelin' well an' can't come to prayer-meetin' to-night. What you need is rest, an' a change o' subject. I jest been over to May Bennett's, an' she's give out thet she an' Pete Sanders has broke off their engagement an' Joe Legget, why his leg's amputated clean off an' Susan Tucker's baby had seven spasms an' "
"Sure, they'd never find out," said one. "An' see, his game leg's most as good as new again," suggested another. It was an unheard-of, audacious, and preposterous proceeding; one which the rules and regulations of the Fire Department, many and varied as they are, never anticipated. But it was adopted.
"No'm, I guess nobody's hurt," answered Russ, as he climbed out from the wreck of the barrel. "Get up," he added to his brother Laddie. "I can't," answered Laddie. "My leg's all twisted up in the soap-box." And so it was. A box had been put on one of the chairs, and Mun Bun and Margy had been sitting on that. This box had fallen on Laddie's leg, which was twisted up inside it.
"Yes, my leg's broke." "Don't let that trouble you; we'll get you clear all right. Do you think you can ride your horse?" "I don't believe it," said I. "I guess I'm done for," and I thought I was.
Like he gave Mister his Sunday cutaway coat.... How'd he hurt his foot, mommer, jever hear him say?" "Berkler bone, I hear." They worked in silence for a time. "I'm right tired to-night. Put 'em here in his clo'es-bag, mommer.... Don't seem it could be just his foot. Torm Hartman's leg's right off to his hip, and he's got a fat look to him. Mr.
And look here " He hesitated a moment and then spoke in tones so low that Everton had to bend over the stretcher to hear him. "My leg's smashed bad, and I'm done for the Front and the old Hotwaters. I wouldn't like it to get about I don't want the others to think to know about me feeling well, like I told you back there before the charge." Toffee grabbed the uninjured-hand hard.
The "lucky gentleman" generally buys one unless he has a Semitic trace in his veins. Then another collection is made, a school formed, and they carry on with the game. The caller-out has many nicknames for the numbers such as "Kelly's Eye" for one, "Leg's Eleven" for eleven, "Clickety-click" for sixty-six, or "Top of the house" meaning ninety. The game is honest and quite enjoyable.
When Jasper's "haul" had got out of the wagon, and while the women were shaking out their skirts, Laz Spencer came along in jacket and shrunken trousers. "Laz," said Jasper, "you ought to sue that peddler. Yo' britches hain't shrunk the same. One leg's shorter than tuther." "So I hearn," Laz replied, looking first at one leg and then at the other.
Bartlett's unvarying sobriety and that of his men threatened to undermine the coherency of the conversation, but the position was saved by Uncle Mo, who seemed less infatuated than others about them. "Bartlett's ain't neither here or there," said he. "What I look at's like this, the leg's off, and we've got to clap on a new un.
I suppose if one hits length balls on the middle stump over square leg's head one must run the risk of being bowled; and I didn't believe in sticking in and doing nothing. 'Get on or get out, and, well, I've got out." He laughed rather hysterically. Again silence. Slowly Jeffries got up. "Well, good-bye, you men." He shook hands.
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