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Updated: June 5, 2025
He is tead more than a hundert years." "Then why do you hate him so?" "Och hone! Ton't you'll never hear why?" "He can't have done you any harm." "Not done old Tuncan any harm! Tidn't you'll know what ta tog would pe toing to her aancestors of Glenco? Och hone! Och hone!
See the fortune now, don't you?" "Perhaps I toes, und maybe I ton't," replied Hanz, relieving his mouth of the pipe. "I shees t' shand, und I shees t' tirty tollars how I know where he comes from, eh?" Hanz began to have his suspicion aroused, and to feel that he had got into queer company.
If you hat toldt me at the peginning if you hat peen frank with meboat it iss all righdt; you can go on; you ton't see dese tings as I see them; and you haf cot a family, and I am a free man. I voark to myself, and when I ton't voark, I sdarfe to myself. But I geep my handts glean, voark or sdarfe. Gif him hiss mawney pack!
"Hans Mueller, are you prepared to meet your doom"? was the question put, in a deep bass voice. "Doom? Vot's dot?" asked the German boy, slightly frightened. "Are you prepared to die?" "Die? Not by a jugful I ain't. You let me go!" "Are you prepared to become a full-fledged member of the Order of Black Skulls." "Not much, I ton't belong to noddings," gasped Hans.
The tankards were then charged afresh, and each man devoted himself to the allaying of his thirst for the next minute or two. Mine host had promised to give Faintly as Tolls the Evening Chime in the course of the evening, and was now called upon to redeem his pledge. "Ah," he remarked, "that vas alvays a faforite song of mine. And ton't you remember how font of it our frient Safareen used to pe?
"I ton't oben mine mouds apout noddings," declared Hans. "I vos so quiet like an ellerfaunt in a church!" Bright and early the boys were astir on the following morning, and Dick, Tom, and Sam went off to interview Captain Starr before breakfast. They found the captain a thick-set fellow, with a heavy mustache and big, bushy whiskers.
If you ket up, tat will pe you are a Cawmill. No, no, my son! You are ferry cruel to your own old daddy. She would pe too much sorry for her poy to hate him. It will pe so treadful to pe a Cawmill! No, no, my poy! She would take you to her poosom, and tat would trive ta Cawmill out of you. Put ton't speak of it any more, my son, for it cannot pe.
"Wha what a fearful wind!" groaned the tall boy, when he could speak. "This is the worst storm I ever saw!" "Oh, but I'm sorry I ever came to camp," groaned William Philander Tubbs. "I'm so wet the water is actually running out of my shoetops!" "Ton't said a vord," came from Hans. "I dink me I half a rifer floating mine packpone town alretty!
"Yes, I am shure you prings me shome news ash ish goot." "Father, father," said Tite, advancing with his right hand extended, "you don't know me?" "Ton't know mine own Tite? Mine poor poy Tite!" exclaimed the old man in a paroxysm of joy. "Yes I does." And he raised his hands, and threw his arms around Tite's neck, and wept for joy.
"I ton't desbise you," the old man broke in, his nostrils swelling and his eyes flaming with excitement, "I bity you." "Well, it seems to come to the same thing in the end," said Fulkerson. "What I understand is that you pity me now as the slave of capital, but you would pity me a great deal more if I was the master of it." "How you mean?" "If I was rich."
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