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Dot is vot ve vill not do!" laughed Mr. Switzer, with conviction. "See, I haf alretty t'ought of dot, und I haf provided. Here are pretzels!" and he produced a large bag of them from his grip. "Ve vill not starf!" "Ha! Pretzels!" scoffed Mr. Sneed. "I never eat them!" "Maybe you vill before you starf!" chuckled Mr. Switzer, as he replaced them. "I like dem much!"
An' he make a townsite dere, yust where Doc Carey take oop. Devil take him! An' he pull all my town's trade mit his fat pocketbook, huh! I send Champers to puy all Grass River claims. Dey don't sell none. I say, 'Champers, let 'em starf. Den Champers, he let 'em. When supplies for crasshopper sufferers cooms from East we lock 'em oop in der office, tight. An' ve sell 'em. Huh!
"Und ve vill starf den; ain't dot so?" inquired Mr. Switzer, with a jolly laugh from across the aisle. "Ve vill starf alretty; vill ve not, mine gloomy friendt?" "We sure will," predicted the grouch of the company. "They took the dining car off at the last station, and I understand there isn't another one to be had until we get to Hampton Junction. We sure will starve!" "Ha!
"Oh, Mr. Stiffelkind," said I, "don't laugh at my misery: she has not left me a single shilling under heaven. And I shall starve: I do believe I shall starve." And I began to cry fit to break my heart. "Starf! stoff and nonsense! You vill never die of starfing you vill die of HANGING, I tink ho! ho! and it is moch easier vay too."
"He works for me, an' he wants to sleep all day an' sit up all the bloomin' night. He's an Owl all but the wise look." "You loaver!" cried Hans, well knowing that Hamblin would not be permitted to attack him again. "You starf mine pelly! You put bugs to sleep in mine ped! How should the nights get me sleep when the ped is one processions of pugs?"
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