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Updated: June 17, 2025
The question before the directors was whether to have machines manufactured and hire them out, or to construct a plant and manufacture them for the trade. To Hiram it was dull and incomprehensible, and after finishing it he looked up at Tweet for an explanation. "I got a sixth int'rest in her, Hooker," Tweet carelessly informed him. "My pay for sellin' the stock for 'em." "Really!
A little later Tweet shouted to Hiram to stop, and Hiram relayed the command to Jo, who called to her ten whites and brought them to a standstill. A little later five angry men hurried on foot alongside the wagon. "Here's your hundred and twelve dollars, Jo," Tweet said exultantly, passing the girl a sheaf of bills, "And that settles that. Now, Mr.
"Tweet, tweet!" said the little bird, for one of his wings being broken, he found it difficult to shake himself; but he quite understood that the bath was meant kindly, and he said, "You are very kind-hearted, madam;" but he did not wish for a second bath.
He signaled Keddie to stop, and the outfit came to a halt. "Hello, Jo, and fellas!" cried the beaming Mr. Tweet, descending from his car. "The man who just passed you in the touring car is Mr. Richard Huber, one of our first citizens. He's Ragtown's first merchant. He's gone to direct the trucks to come to Greater Ragtown with their loads.
Drummond, step over here and be introduced to Jerkline Jo Modock and my friend Hiram Hooker, from Wild-cat Hill. We'll see if you folks can't get together and conduct your affairs amicably." Al Drummond, Hiram Hooker's one-time rival, was indeed there, dressed after the fashion of Mr. Tweet, and looking big and important and business-like.
That takes trade away from Ragtown, and concessionaires are quittin', too. A month from now Ragtown will be only a memory, Heine. Not that, as Tweet, she won't build up later and more substantially, when the steel's laid and trains are runnin'. But to keep a stiff upper lip till then brings gray hairs!" "Don't you worry," Heine said consolingly.
Well," he switched abruptly, "what you been thinkin' about our little deal?" "Nothing," Hiram retorted resentfully. They had been slowly walking down the street. Tweet stopped short and looked at him. "That means what? That you don't care to consider it further?" It had meant just that when Hiram said it. There was now in Tweet's question a tone of finality.
Tweet glanced at Hiram and whispered: "I'm 'fraid this is where we separate, Hooker. Still, I don't know. Maybe I'm a jerkline skinner, after all. I'll never know till I try." In front of the stable Tweet came to an abrupt halt and studiously regarded one of the huge freight wagons. "Just a moment," he began quaintly.
The wagons and teams of Jerkline Jo's freight outfit were covered with flags, and Jo's proud skinners paraded the streets, the wagons loaded with cheering townspeople. Carried on the shoulders of men, the bride and groom were escorted to the Palace Dance Hall, where a banquet had been prepared, over which presided Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet.
Polly did not answer a single word, he continued to swing proudly to and fro; but a beautiful canary, who had been brought from his own warm, fragrant fatherland, the summer previous, began to sing as loud as he could. "You screamer!" said the lady, throwing a white handkerchief over the cage. "Tweet, tweet," sighed he, "what a dreadful snowstorm!" and then he became silent.
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