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Updated: June 18, 2025
Then the carpetbag came down, struck Hans on the head and knocked him to a sitting position on the grass. "Sarves ye roight for torturin' our ears wid thot croupy flute, ye bologna sausage!" laughed Mulloy. "Pologna sissage! Pologna sissage!" howled Hans. "You vos chust as sauciness as I efer vos! Vy don'd I learnt some manners dot vould make a chentleman uf you!"
"I'd dive to the bottom o' hell to find him if I knowed he wuz thar But what's the use to talk; that devil killed him! I've waked up many a night stranglin' with a dream when I seed the drunken brute burnin' an' beatin' an' torturin' him to death. The feller you've heard about ain't him. 'Tain't no use to make me hope an' then kill me " "He's not dead, I tell you. I know."
"Ain't you been torturing me regular tearin' me to pieces?" The court was shocked. "Torturing?" said Captain Gushing. "Torturin' me for days a week, maybe, I dunno, in that there dungeon!" Major Gaddis turned to Sergeant Perkins, who stood behind Jimmie's chair, barely able to withhold his hands from the prisoner. "How about that, Sergeant?" "It is utterly false, sir."
The horse of the trooper who had laughed almost leaped into the air. Only Sergeant Cassidy was communicative; he took a larger circuit in returning to his place, and managed to lean over and whisper hoarsely in the ear of a camp follower spectator, "Tell the young leddy that the torturin' divvils couldn't take the smile off him!" The little column filed out of the gateway into the road.
It haint nothin' pretty anyway. And as fer the waists bein' all girted up and drawed in, that is nothin' but crushed bones and flesh and vitals, that is just crowdin' down your insides into a state o' disease and deformity, torturin' your heart down so's the blood can't circulate, and your lungs so's you can't breathe, it is nothin' but slow murder anyway, and if I ever take it into my head to kill myself, Alminy Hagidone, I haint a goin' to do it in a way of perfect torture and torment to me, I'd ruther be drownded."
"Ye was up in the ither dungeon last night," he said, turning to the man who had aided him; "what was a' the groans an' cries aboot?" "Torturin' the puir lads that tried to escape," answered the man with a dark frown. "Hm! I thoucht as muckle. They were gey hard on them, I dar'say?" "They were that!
Can't ye sind me some cider fr'm th' farm. * In 1865 he was accused iv embezzlemint, but th' charges niver reached his ears or th' public's ontil eight years afther his death. * In 67' his foster brother, that he had neglected in Kansas City, slipped on his ballroom flure an' broke his leg. * In '70 his wife died afther torturin' him f'r fifty years.
Jinnie settled back contentedly. "A long time ago," began Mr. Grandoken, "God led a bunch of Jews out of a town where a king was torturin' 'em " The listener's eyes darkened in sympathy. "They was made to do a lot of things that hurt 'em; their babies and women, too." Jinnie leaned forward and covered the horny hand with her slender fingers. "Have you ever had any babies, Lafe?" she ventured.
An' for every day I work in the hole the hate of you will burn blacker into her heart." "I'd rather have her hate than her pity." "You'll have both; her hate for torturin' Harrigan; her pity for lettin' the devil in you get the best of the man. You're done for, McTee." Each one of the short phrases was like a whip flicked across the face of McTee, but he would not wince. "You've said enough.
The only trouble will be that we may have to keep within cover while they're torturin' some poor fellow under our very shadows. You'll have to keep in mind that Peter an' Jacob Sitz are the only white men we're after, an' shut both eyes an' ears to every one else." "Suppose Jacob has been made prisoner? Would you risk your life to save him?"
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