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Updated: May 26, 2025
But none, not even Bully the English Sparrow, was brave enough to join him in attacking big Redtail. When he had succeeded in driving Redtail far enough from the Old Orchard to suit him, Scrapper flew back and perched on a dead branch of one of the trees, where he received the congratulations of all his feathered neighbors.
I've got a job and I'm staying with it. I'll sit here like a horned toad till the boss gives me my time." The camera man beamed. To meet so debonair and care-free a specimen of humanity warmed the cockles of his heart. "I'll bet you're some scrapper yourself," he suggested. "Oh, no. He'll lick me, I reckon. Say, what do they hold you up for at this hacienda?"
"I only saw the man with the razor," Hiram told her, "and got busy. Of course, I didn't even know it was a razor then, but I saw steel. I thought they were going to kill you. Didn't take much time to think, at that." "You terrible scrapper!" laughed the girl. "Who'd have thought that I'd ever have needed such a man and got him! Hiram, you've you've never kissed me since that night."
Jack stepped back and surveyed his fallen foe. "Easier than I thought it would be," he said quietly. "Had he known anything of boxing there might have been a different story to tell." Frank stepped forward and took his friend's hand. "You're some scrapper, all right," he said, "but what are we going to do now?" "Well," said Jack, "we seem to be in command of this submarine.
The captain propped Samson up, and Joe Johnson glared into his face, and then struck him down with the handle of his heavy whip. "Patty," he growled, "that nigger's scienced; he's the champion scrapper of Somerset. He knocked me down, and I marked him fur it; and now, by God! I'm a-goin' to burn him alive on Twiford's island."
"No, I do not," declared Ditson, an angry flush coming to his face. "He is a scrapper, and I do not think I am his match in a brutal fight." "Brutal is good! An' yer wants his arm bruck? Don't propose to give him no show at all, eh?" "I don't care a continental what is done so long as he is fixed as I ask." "I s'pose ye're one of them stujent fellers?" "Yes, I am a student."
Sure, Shelley had been shot through the lungs a couple of times, and one leg had been considerably altered from the original plan, but he had claimed he was a better scrapper than ever before and had offered to prove it to this medical officer right then and there if it could be done quiet. But this fair offer had been rejected.
After the fireman had dropped off to set the switch for the following train, Williams put the unconvincement into words. "That kind of sand is all right in God's country, Andy, but out here in the nearer edges of hell you got to know how to fight with pitchforks and such other tools as come handy. The new boss may be that kind of a scrapper, but he sure don't look it.
Judging from the appearance of this feeble old man, one would hardly think that he was once a rollicking scrapper, with ready fists like rawhide mallets. Old Dave dutifully gives full credit to the law of heredity. "M' daddy was six feet six, an' weighed 248 pounds," he said proudly. "Nevah done a hahd day's wuk in 'is life."
Peter saw it very distinctly just as Scrapper snapped it up. It reminded Peter that he had often heard Scrapper called the Bee Martin, and now he understood why. "Do you live on bees altogether?" asked Peter. "Bless your heart, Peter, no," replied Scrapper with a chuckle. "There wouldn't be any honey if I did. I like bees. I like them first rate. But they form only a very small part of my food.
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