Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 23, 2025
You blooming spoonbill, get inter that! Step lively, man!" The Northlander's heavy, slow-moving feet stopped entirely as he turned a stolid face toward the foreman. "I bane to like I tam plase," he muttered, slowly. "Yo bane go hell." The big Englishman sprang back, swept up a broken pick-handle half buried in the sand, and leaped forward.
Like many another in the crowd, he was ready to carve out a republic with a pick-handle, even though a score came to resist him with rifles.
He knew now that Ben had been somewhere around. No doubt he had been peering through the window and watching him talking to the professor and his daughters. How he longed to get a rap at the cowardly cur. The pick-handle would not be necessary; oh, no, his fists would be sufficient. But Ben knew enough to keep out of the way and let others do his dirty work.
Two of them had met just by the ruins of the tent, and while one stuck his pick into the ground on one side of the stream, the other splashed through the water and performed the same operation on the other side, so close to where a hole had been dug that when he sat on his pick-handle, he dangled his legs over the edge of the hole. "Here, that's our claim.
Above all the clamor and the shoutings Virginia could hear the bull-bellow of this foreman roaring out his commands in terms happily not understandable to her; and once she drew back with a little cry of womanly shrinking when the pick-handle thwacked upon the shoulders of one who lagged. It was this bit of brutality which enabled her to single out Winton in the throng of workers.
It was a foul blow, but there are few rules to hamper men who fight in a Western construction camp, and Charnock thought his antagonist meant to use a stove-iron that lay close by. Feinting at the other, he dodged and seized a pick-handle he had noticed on the floor. He was just in time, for the foreman struck at him with the iron.
And here Smoke met the social elect of Dawson not the mere pick-handle millionaires, but the ultra-cream of a mining city whose population had been recruited from all the world men like Warburton Jones, the explorer and writer; Captain Consadine of the Mounted Police; Haskell, Gold Commissioner of the Northwest Territory; and Baron Von Schroeder, an emperor's favourite with an international duelling reputation.
Well, it was a fight, sure. I got laid out not knocked out, for I could see but I wasn't any help to pard Montana. It looked as if he didn't need any. The rough-necks jumped him. Then, one after another, he piled them up in the road. Just a swing and down went each one cold. But the fellow I hit came to and, grabbing up a pick-handle, with all his might he soaked Montana over the head.
Tightening his wide slouch hat farther down on his head, he drew up the tops of his high-water boots and strode through the slush to the pick-handle. His wooden record showed that half an hour before the water had been rising at the rate of an inch every three minutes; that it had then taken six, and now required eight!
If she was half as good, mebby we would. You never done much fancy pick-handle exercise, did you?" "No, but I'm going to. This beats signing checks all to pieces." "Never got cramps that way myself," grunted Overland. "But I have from swingin' a pick. Your back'll be so blame stiff in about three days that you'll wish you never seen a pan or a shovel.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking