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"That's you, Joe Dimick!" he shouted, pointing an agitated forefinger. "You needn't scooch down. I know your tongue. The idea of you findin' fault because a big man like Congressman Atkins don't jump when you holler 'Git up! What do YOU know about doin's at Washington? That harbor appropriation 'll go through if anybody on earth can get it through.
"Well, give us your bonnet, and then you 'scooch' down, and I'll pull you through." "There," said the naughty boy, when they had got down to the river, "now I've been and put a bait on the end of your hook, and I plump it in the water so. You just hold on to the pole." "But it jiggles it tips me!" cried Prudy; and as she spoke she fell face downwards on the bank.
He trudged along, carrying it, and came to where Vaniman was standing, observing and wondering. "Scooch!" snapped Wagg. "Walk along. Don't show yourself past this shield!" It was a true shield. Wagg carried it straight up and down. Vaniman obeyed instantly. He had a mental flash that Wagg did know exactly what he was about in his tactics.
These commands were evidently addressed to the horse. "Glad you ain't hurt. Better get out, hadn't you?" "I I'm not sure that I can get out. What on earth has happened?" "Tree limb carried away. Lucky for us we got the brush end, 'stead of the butt. Scooch down and see if you can't wriggle out underneath. I did." Mr. Graves obediently "scooched."
"Can't anybody go in if it's an exhibit by payin' suthin'?" "I mean, I don't know that they're hung." "Well, I wouldn't bother about that. I'd like to see 'em jest as well if they ain't hung. I'm putty tall, but I can scooch down as well as anybody. It'll seem kind o' good to see the ol' place. I was thinkin' this mornin' I wish't there was two-three rocks round somewheres.
"Set down," he begged. "Scooch down out of sight, Emeline, for the land sakes. Don't stand up there where everybody can see you." The lady refused to "scooch." "If I ain't ashamed of bein' seen," she observed, "I don't know why you should be. What are you doin' over here anyhow; skippin' 'round in the sand like a hoptoad?" The lightkeeper repeated his plea.
Also his way of addressin' his male parent would give another jolt to a lot of people, I suppose. "Hi, Torchy!" That's his favorite hail. "Reddy yourself, you young freshy," I'm apt to come back at him. Followin' which I scooch to meet his flyin' tackle and we roll on the rug in a clinch, with Buddy yappin' delighted and mixin' in promiscuously.
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