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Updated: June 10, 2025


"Well," said the little voice of the man-within-the-man, who in the person of Calvin Hardy Crookes sat listening to the ticker in his office, "well, let it roar. It sure can't hurt C. H. C." "Can you see Mr. Cressler?" said the clerk at the door. He came in with a hurried, unsteady step. The long, stooping figure was unkempt; was, in a sense, unjointed, as though some support had been withdrawn.

They had been remarkably successful; their baskets were filled, and they had several "sockdologers" strung on a branch, which they carried in their hands. After dropping their hooks for a few moments among the perch, at the mouth of the brook, they unjointed their poles, and started toward home, well satisfied with their day's work.

They were mighty careless with their cigars. Will they be any more careful with the butts when they have finished their smoke? I don't know but what we ought to trail them. Yet we've got to meet Mr. Morton and I don't want to be tardy. I can't make up my mind what we ought to do." After a moment's consideration, he unjointed his rod, and started off in the direction from which the men had come.

To others again he unjointed the spondyles or knuckles of the neck, disfigured their chaps, gashed their faces, made their cheeks hang flapping on their chin, and so swinged and balammed them that they fell down before him like hay before a mower.

"We'll try her some day," he said; "but she seems very leaky. Here we are." As he spoke, he took a couple of rough-looking, unjointed rods from where they were laid across some pegs driven into the side of the building just below the thatch eaves.

There were eight in this band, and I had to take a roundabout course to get in gunshot of them, but when I finally did get a shot at them I killed an elk that carried the largest pair of horns I have ever seen, with one exception. I unjointed his neck about a foot from his head and dressed him, but left his hide on. The head and horns were all I could lift as high as the horse's back.

Concerning the best kind of bridle in which to hold a puller, I cannot do better than quote the following remarks from my husband's book, Riding and Hunting: "As regards the bitting of a puller, I would advise that with a double bridle the curb should be put low down in the mouth.... In all cases an unjointed snaffle is much the best form of bit.

One glance was all that Average Jones bestowed upon a spot which, for a few days, had been of national interest. His concern was inside the room. A stand against the wall was littered with bits of shining mechanism. An unjointed fishing-rod lay on the bed. Near at hand were a small screw-driver and a knife with a broken blade.

I can't till I've tried to do something for my leg." So Ralph fell to on the bag of biscuit and the keg of water, while Duff bathed and bound up his leg as best he could. The bone had been fractured just above the ankle by a bullet. Fortunately it was an easy though painful matter to straighten the limb, as nothing had been unjointed.

Dangling the pickerel by the gills, and shouldering his gun, he pushed on upstream through the alders, leaving Little Tim angry and smarting. "I'll get even with you, Benny Ellison," called Tim; but the other only laughed and went on. Tim slowly unjointed his rod, tied the pieces together in a compact bundle, gathered up his string of remaining fish and started homeward.

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