United States or Panama ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"He'll want watching, Mr. Joses will," he said. "He didn't look very pretty, did he?" said the young man. "Yes," mused the old man. "A little job o' work for Monkey, that'll be. He don't like Chukkers, Monkey don't." He pursed his lips and lifting an eye-lid looked at the other from beneath it. His blue eye was dreamy, dewy, and twinkling remotely through a mist. "Rogues and rasqueals, Mr.
"You mustn't come no more, though, Mr. Joses, you mustn't. If anything was to 'appen to you in my place I should never forgive meself. 'Tain't so much the compensation to your widows and such. It's here" he thumped his heart "I'd feel it." Joses began to make excuse, but the old man refused to be convinced. "Rogues and rasqueals, Mr. Joses," he cried.
"Nor ain't I," replied Mat, with faint irony. "Not altogether somersaulted with surprise, as you might say. We knows Chukkers, and Chukkers knows us de we." He dropped his voice. "Monkey Brand'll tell you a tale or two about his ole friend. You arst him one day when you gets him on the go." He raised his voice and began to thump the air with his fist. "Rogues and rasqueals, Mr.
Silver!" he cried, twiddling his whip, and raising his voice to a sort of chant. "Rogues and rasqueals on h'every side, layin' in wait for to take a little bit off you same as the Psalmist says. And it's no good talkin' to 'em. None whatebber." He dropped his voice to the old confidential note. "Pinch the hair off the back o' your head while you're sleepin', they would.
"Rogues and rasqueals!" Old Mat would say with one of his deep sighs. "But whatebber should we do without 'em?" For Putnam's the Three J's had always possessed a particular interest. Their stable was at Dewhurst, just behind Arunvah, at the other end of the South Downs.
A yellow van, an ancient horse or two hobbled in the gorse-bushes, a patch of brown tent, and a whiff of blue smoke rising from an unseen fire, betrayed the nature of the squatters. The old man pointed them out with his whip. "There they are, the beauties," he said. "Thought they wouldn't be fur. Rogues and rasqueals, Mr.
Next morning Silver went to see Old Mat in his office and opened to him a tale; but the trainer, who seemed very sleepy these days, refused to hear him. "I knows nothin' about nothin'," he said almost querulously, pursing his lips, and sheathing his eyes. "As to rogues and rasqueals, you knows my views by now, Mr. Silver. Same as the Psalmist's, as I've said afore.
Mat seemed lost in memories. "I wep' a tear. I did reely," he said at last. Then he shook a sorrowful head. "I ain't one o' yer whitewings meself," he said. "Not by no means. But he shock me, Monkey do. He does reely." He dabbed his eye. "Rogues and rasqueals, yer Grace," he said. "All very well. But there is a limit, as the Psalmist very proply remarked."
Word Of The Day