Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: September 25, 2025
"If that's all you have to complain of, Alan, it's no such great affair," said I. "And it sets me ill to be complaining, whatever," said he, "and me but new out of yon deil's haystack." "And so you were unco weary of your haystack?" I asked. "Weary's nae word for it," said he. "I'm not just precisely a man that's easily cast down; but I do better with caller air and the lift above my head.
Pink, with a quite obtrusive facetiousness, began lustily chanting that it looked to him like a big night to-night with occasional, furtive glances at Weary's face; for he, also, had been quick to read those close-pressed lips, which did not soften in response to the ditty. Usually he laughed at Pink's drollery. They rode rather quietly upon the hill again, to where fed the sheep.
Pink glanced at him quickly, then at the solemn faces of the others, and retreated hastily inside the tent, where was Chip; and every man of them knew the stranger had caught Weary's meaning. They smiled discreetly at their plates and said nothing.
There was a new, masterful note in Weary's voice, that the schoolma'am felt but did not quite understand then. She did not, perhaps, realize how plainly her whole attitude spoke surrender. Weary waited what seemed to him a reasonable time, but her lashes drooped lower, if anything. Then he made one of the quick, unlooked-for moves which made him a master of horses.
"Where's he hurt?" asked Weary, in the repressed tone which only tragedy can bring into a man's voice, and knelt beside Big Medicine. "I dunno through the lungs, I guess; my sleeve's gitting soppy right under his shoulder." Big Medicine did not bellow; his voice was as quiet as Weary's. Weary looked up briefly at the circle of staring faces. "Pink, you pile onto Glory and go wire for a doctor.
"Well, now, you boys show some kinda sense," Applehead told them when Pink had followed Weary's example. "Fellers like Happy and Bud, they shore do show their ign'rance uh this here, dang country, when they up 'n' laff at the idee uh trouble now I'm tellin' yuh!"
All this was Weary's life in Portland. Not exactly hilarious, that life. Not a homelike one to a man fresh from eating, sleeping, working, reveling with fellows who would cheerfully give him the coat upon their straight backs if he needed it; fight for him, laugh at him, or laugh with him, tease him, bully him, love him like a brother in short, fresh from Jim Whitmore's Happy Family.
Pink unrolled his "sooguns" in their accustomed corner next to Weary's bed and went straightway to sleep. Weary thumped his own battered pillow into some semblance of plumpness and gazed with suspicion at the thick fringe of curled lashes lying softly upon Pink's cheeks. "If I was a girl," he said pensively to the others, "I'd sure be in love with Cadwolloper myself.
But it was two hours before Miss Forsythe gave over watching furtively the door, and it was daylight before Chip Emmett found a gray hat under the water bench a hat which he finally recognized as Weary's and so appropriated to his own use. Weary clattered up to the school-house door to find it erupting divers specimens of young America by adoption, some of them.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking