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Updated: June 8, 2025
"Old Wabash is a twister for curvin' and windin' round, an' it's limestone bed half the way, an' the water's as pretty an' clear as in Maria's springhouse. An' as for trimmin', why say, Mr. Redbird, I'll jest leave it to you if she ain't all trimmed up like a woman's spring bunnit. Look at the grass a-creepin' right down till it's a trailin' in the water!
"Yas, suh, I wuz er standin' dar at de cornder o' de house at de time, an' I yered you tell him, an' I would er blebed it, ez I tell you, but dat man is sich er monst'us twister o' de fack dat nuthin' said ter him soun's like de truf. I blebed it when you told him, but de minit he told me it sounded like er lie." "Kintchin, that's putty good sense, anyhow."
Lake, so to speak, stood at his wicket, and that accomplished bowler, Fortune, ball in hand, at the other end; will it be swift round-hand, or a slow twister, or a shooter, or a lob? Eye and hand, foot and bat, he must stand tense, yet flexible, lithe and swift as lightning, ready for everything cut, block, slip, or hit to leg. It was not altogether pleasant.
Later in the analysis of retrospect Stuart began to wonder at his host's strange behavior until of idle speculation suspicion was born, but as to that circumstance he held his counsel. The last summer month brings to the Cape the August twister and the August tide.
On this wet day, in the preaching-room of the mill, amid forms and desks, with the cranch of the stones from below, the wash of the wheel from outside, and the rush of the uncrushed corn from above, Cæsar sat rolling sugganes for the stackyard, with Kate working the twister, and going backward before him, and half his neighbours sheltering from the rain and looking on.
The arm had been strained, and the big fellow nursed it. "Hell, but you're a twister!" the cattleman said with a grimace of pain. Billy Goat was a gentleman, after his kind, and he liked Sergeant Foyle with a great liking. He turned to the crowd and spoke. "Say, boys, this mine's worked out. Let's leave the Happy Land to Foyle. Boys, what is he what is he? What is Sergeant Foyle boys?"
"As free and free with a poor man, and no making aisy either. I've nothing agen him myself. No, but a bit young for a Dempster, isn't he? Just a taste young, as the man said, eh?" "Older than the young Ballawhaine, anyway," said John, the clerk. "Aw, make him Dempster, then. I'm raising no objection," said Mr. Kelly. "Go on, girl. Does that twister want oiling?
Shucks! thar hain't one o' th' lot could sit a real twister long enough to git his seat warm; about th' second jump would have 'em clawin' sand. "Only thing in their hull circus wo'th lookin' at is that red-maned gal, an' she looks that sweet an' innercent she don't 'pear to rightly belong in that thar bare-legged bunch o' she dido-cutters. They-all must 'a mavericked her recent.
"She got outa the whirlwind back there somewheres, or else she's gone on with what's left o' the twister." "I was afraid you wasn't going to say that, Hooker," Drummond said. "Well, let me show you something. Do you recognize this gat?" Hiram looked uneasily at a third big six-shooter, which Drummond had produced as he spoke. "I reckon she was mine a while back," he said with a gulp. "Exactly.
You're right, though, says he, and with that he tries to put a twister on Diablo's nose. Holy mother! Diablo reached for him, and lifted the shirt clean off his back. Say, there was a scared Irishman, if you ever saw one in your life. He threw down the plate, cussin' as only Paddy can, and swore the brute could run till he'd wore his hoofs off, for all of him.
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