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Updated: May 14, 2025
When her friend paused for lack of words, Josie remarked: "Every American's watchword should be: 'Swat the traitor! War seems to breed traitors, somehow. During the Civil War they were called 'copperheads, as the most venomous term that could be applied to the breed. We haven't yet coined an equally effective word in this war, but it will come in time.
He gives it up reluctant and I backs out. Another minute and I've shoved in where Old Hickory is chewin' a cigar butt savage while he pencils a joker clause into a million-dollar contract. "Excuse me, sir," says I, "but you were expectin' a party from the Belgian Commission, were you?" "No," snaps Old Hickory. "Nor from the Persian Shah, or the Sultan of Sulu, or the Ahkoond of Swat.
"He vos noddings but a snake killer." "Oh, mon!" burst in Rosy Delaney. "A snake killer, Moike, do ye moind thot? Swat the Dootchman wan, quick!" And Mike "swatted" with an end of a fence rail he was chopping up for firewood. But Humpendinck dodged, and Rosy caught the blow, and there followed a lively row between her and Mike, in the midst of which the German boomer sneaked away.
Perry Strickland had been killed the summer before just this a way; and it seemed like once in a while God just launched out like you'd swat a fly, and took somebody; and of course you couldn't tell who He was goin' to come after next.
"I I ain't got the heart to swat you while you keep lookin' that way at me," he muttered half-aloud, as if to a human companion. "Jes' you turn your head the other way, pup! It'll be over quick, an' easy." By the faint light Link could see the dog had not obeyed the order to turn his head. But at the man's tone of compassion the great plumy tail began to thump the ground in feeble response.
Middler read this short treatise from the pulpit and urged his hearers to screen their pantries, at least, to "swat the fly" with vigor, and to remove barns and stables so far away from the dwellings that it would be, at least, a longer trip for Mr. Fly from the barnyard to the dining-table and back again! The Board of Selectmen, stirred by Mr.
The Malakand Pass gives access to the valley of the Swat, a long and wide trough running east and west, among the mountains. Six miles further to the east, at Chakdara, the valley bifurcates. One branch runs northward towards Uch, and, turning again to the west, ultimately leads to the Panjkora River and beyond to the great valley of Nawagai.
Westy Martin was sitting on the edge of the deck dangling his feet and eating a sandwich. Well, you ought to have seen them all stare. "What in the dickens do you call this?" Wig Weigand hollered. But I didn't say a word till I got right close to them, then I gave Westy a good swat with my reed paddle.
It was not much of an affair, but it shows what can be done with dash. "In 1877 we were making a canal, to tap the Swat river at a point where it enters British territory.
"Get just seven turns of the lashing around your hammocks, and get 'em quick. If you can't pass your hammock through a foot ring, you'll go on the report. Shake a leg there!" The rumor had gone about that it was the custom to "swat" the last man with a club, and there was a great scramble.
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