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Updated: July 3, 2025
As we left behind us the bridge, which crossed a beautiful little stream lined with cotton woods and willows, they had turned a bright vermillion. There was not a mortal to be seen besides ourselves. The only sound that interrupted our conversation was the crowing of the roosters. The leaves were still. It was just the right time for the beginning of a friendship between two strangers.
"I hate you," he answered. "You're a snake!" I said. We now stood, face to face and breast to breast, like a pair of young roosters. He gave me a shove and told me to go home. I gave him a shove and told him I wouldn't. I pushed up close to him again and we glared into each other's eyes. Suddenly he spat in my face. I gave him a scratch on the forehead with my finger-nails.
Squaws were bringing in bundles of tree branches on their backs for firewood; others were scraping the flesh from raw deer-skins, stretched on frames which leaned against buildings. Some young fellows, among whom was Hias Peter, were rolling up driftwood from the river. Children were capering about, laughing and shouting. Dogs were barking, cats mewing, roosters crowing.
"But I guess this rooster knows horse talk, 'cause there's horses around here. Whoa there!" But even if the rooster did understand horse talk, he was not going to stop and let Bunny lasso him. That was sure. On and on the rooster ran, crowing and cackling. The hens and other roosters heard the noise, and crowed and cackled too, wondering what it was all about. "Here he comes, Bunny!
Bibbs retained enough presence of mind to transfer the capon breast to his plate without dropping it and to respond, "Yes he crows over it." Having returned his antagonists's fire in this fashion, he blushed for he could blush distinctly now and his mother looked upon him with pleasure, thought the reference to Midas and roosters was of course jargon to her.
But the rooster, in his oriental iridescent plumage, jumped upon a fence-post and crowed defiantly, in warning that this was his preserve. They seemed like the same hens, yet Philip knew they were all strangers; all the hens and flaunting roosters he knew had long ago gone to Thanksgiving. The hen is, or should be, an annual. It is never made a pet. It forms no attachments.
They are really a wild pansy. Bring water, Katy, and help me." "But I've something else for ye," said Katy. "I don't care what you have," answered Linda. "I am just compelled to park these little roosters at once." "What makes ye call them that ungodly name?" asked Katy. "Nothing ungodly about it," answered Linda. "It's funny.
"Well, gents, how's this for high?" said Foster, in a peculiar tone of voice, at which all began to smile. He was a slender fellow with close-clipped, assertive red hair. "In this company we now have the majesty of the law, the power of the press, and the underpinning of the American civilization all represented. Hello! There are a couple of old roosters with their heads together.
The noisy, good-natured crowds in the streets, the jostling, snail-moving crowds; the illuminated canvas-sheets in front of the newspaper offices; the blare of tin horns, the cries, the yells, the hoots and hurrahs; the petty street fights; the stalled surface cars; the swearing cabbies; the newsboys hawking their latest extras, men carrying execrable posters of roosters. Hurrah! hurrah!
But I am sorry to say it wuzn't the high art and culture of Japan that Josiah wuz most interested in, but the queer things, such as the strange stunted trees trained into forms of men and animals hundreds of years old and no higher than a common chair, and lots of 'em not so high. And there wuz roosters with tails twenty-five feet long.
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