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Updated: May 9, 2025
"You better not start any rough-house, Starratt at the eleventh hour!" he admonished, with a significant warmth. Fred turned slowly, breaking into a laugh. "Rough-house?" he echoed. "Don't be afraid. ... I've got to the curious stage now. I want to see the whole picture." He reached for his hat. "I'm ready ... let's go." A half hour later Fred Starratt was booked at the detention hospital.
From his bleeding knuckles and the skin off one cheek, it was evident that he had given Stine and Sprague what was coming. "You ought to see that cabin," he chuckled, as they stood at the bar. "Rough-house ain't no name for it. Dollars to doughnuts nary one of 'em shows up on the street for a week. An' now it's all figgered out for you an' me. Grub's a dollar an' a half a pound.
"How I hate these wild, unbridled women!" "Yes," agreed Hastings, taking the chair Wilton rolled forward for him. "She worries me. Wonder if she's going to Sloanehurst." "That would be the logical sequel to this visit," Wilton said. "But pardon my show of temper. You came to see me?" "Yes; and, like her, for information. But," the detective said, smiling, "not for rough-house purposes."
"Take one step, and I'll kill you." Hobart lifted his head groggily, and pushed himself half-way up on his knees. "Don't shoot unless he makes you, Del," he ordered grimly. "We don't want that kind of row here." He dragged himself painfully to the side door, and pressed it open. "Hey you!" he cried. "Come on out here. Now then, rough-house this guy!" McADAMS BLOWS IN
So that, while the boy who does not play "snappy" and hard cannot rank high, neither can the boy who plays "rough-house." Forcefulness under control is the desideratum.
"You broke the bargain, and I kept my word," said Uncle John, calmly taking his pipe from his pocket and filling it. "The compact was that if you raised a rough-house, like you did yesterday, and got unruly, that I'd give you a good thrashing. Now, wasn't it?" "Yes," acknowledged the boy. "Well, that blamed temper o' your'n got away with you again, and you're well spanked for not heading it off.
"Jerry's the best rough-and-tumble fighter on the island." "Wan av the best. I wouldn't put him first till after him and this guy had met alone in a locked room. S'long, Mike." "S'long, Tim. No report on this rough-house, mind yuh." "Sure, Mike." If you vision Clay as a man of battles and violent deaths you don't see him as he saw himself. He was a peaceful citizen from the law-abiding West.
"Let them hum," sad the Colonel; "in the meantime you go to jail, and if you say more you may have your sentence doubled." This was a Daniel come to judgment with a vengeance. To be more modern, it reminds one of Begbie, the great frontier judge on the west coast, who tamed the outlaw miners who tried to start rough-house in the gold-rush days.
"I found him snoozing in a little kennel out back," the mate said. "He's the cook, I suppose. Can't get a word out of him. What did you find?" "A sleeping princess. S-sh! There's somebody now." "If it's Hall," Snow muttered, clenching his fist. Grief shook his head. "No rough-house. There's a woman here. And if it is Hall, before we go I'll maneuver a chance for you to get action."
"Young Ward, the freshman! the elusive slugging freshman, fast on his feet, and, as Worry here says, a lad with a great arm!" "WARD!" roared the Sophs in unison. "Hold on, fellows wait no rough-house yet wait," ordered Dale. "Ward's here of his own free will!" Silence ensued after the captain spoke. While he turned to lock the door the Sophs stared open-mouthed at Ken.
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