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Samson woke the camp at daylight and a merry song was his reveille while he led the horses to their drink. "Have a good night?" Sarah would ask. "Perfect!" he was wont to answer. "But when the smudges went out the mosquiters got to peckin' my face." "Mine feels like a pincushion," Sarah would often answer. "Will you heat up a little water for us to wash with?" "You better believe I will.
"He ain't been able to touch a morsel out here," observed Uncle Peter, with a palpably false air of concern. "I got all worried up about him, barely peckin' at a crumb or two." "I never could learn to eat those oysters out of their shells," Mrs. Bines confessed. "They taste so much better out of the can.
No more 'n you git her goin' in one direction than she turns up a alley on you. It's night school now. There ain't a spare minute she ain't peckin' on that ole piece of a type-writer Ike Lavinski loaned her." "She's got a awful lot of energy," sighed Mrs. Smelts. "Energy! Why it's somethin' fierce! She ain't content to let nothin' stay the way it is.
When bullets are flying round your head, you can't help yourself, but it's hard to put your feet down right where the nasty little things are peckin' about. Here they come again! Keep it up, Doty. See that? They've stopped again. They ain't real mad with me, yet, the boys ain't; only Mr. Morris and his friends are mad.
Whoo cooks fur you-oo-a? Ef you'll cook fur my folks, Den I'll cook fur y' all-l-lll. "An' wid dat de Peafowl tuck'n bounct him; an' dar dey had it, er scrougin' an' peckin an er clawin' uv one nudder; an' somehow, in de skrummidge, de Owl's eyes dey got skwushed on ter de Peafowl's tail, an' fur er long time he couldn't see nuffin' 'tall; but de rattlesnake doctored on him."
"I'll be drinkin' condinsed spirits an' 'atin' hay-cake whip the vultures do be peckin' at what's lift uv ye whip the Subadar's done wid ye. I'd a drame about ye last noight, William Connor dear three times I dramed it." Suddenly Connor's face was clouded. "Whist, thin, Coolin," said he hoarsely.
"I've not seen it yet," Peter said rather timidly. "It sounds very nice." Miss Barnett gave him a rather contemptuous look through her pince-nez and turned to Hilary. "Lor!" whispered Mrs. Johnson to Peter. "They do get so excited about pictures. Just like that they go on all day, squabblin' and peckin' each other.
But you're not much of a stenog, Lucy was that you peckin' away in there?" A shade of pink swept her face. "I used to operate a machine a little with one finger of each hand," she explained, "but I'm all out of practice. I don't have to use a typewriter on this job though. It's an old one the boss took for a bill." "Just practicin' up again, eh?" "Ye-yes," she hesitated.
"You're always peckin' at me," grumbled Andy, who detested being called "Andrew" quite as much as that robust individual known to his friends as Bill detests being called "Willie" and Ma Bailey knew it. "So you aim to leave us," said Haskins, quite unaware of Ma Bailey's eye which glared disapproval of the subject.
They're almost as friendly as dogs if you know how to get on with 'em. Watch him peckin' about there an' lookin' round at us now an' again. He knows we're talkin' about him." It was the queerest thing in the world to see the old fellow. He looked at the plump little scarlet-waistcoated bird as if he were both proud and fond of him. "He's a conceited one," he chuckled.
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