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Updated: May 26, 2025
My wife's doin' the hired man's work now, an' she's allus pesterin' me to git an incubator, but them things cost a powerful sight of money, an' I don't hold with new-fangled notions; too much resk to them. You can allus sell hens when they git too old to set or lay, but what're you going to do with a wore-out incubator?" He cackled shrilly at his own witticism and then grew morose again.
What're you saying!" exclaimed Amos. "Keep out, Amos," said Levine. "We've got to clear this up. I've been expecting it, for some time. Lydia, years ago before the Government began to support the Indians, they were a fine, upstanding race. The whites could have learned a lot from them. They were brave, and honorable, and moral, and in a primitive way, thrifty.
Come on, don't be such a tarnation coward; the rattlesnakes, and copper-heads, and wipers, won't run after us; and if they was to, they couldn't reach up to our legs. This is a glorious day for snaking come on, Joe!" Joe followed at a very slow and cautious pace a few steps farther, and then halted again. "What're you stopping for agin?" asked Sneak. "Sneak, the pony ain't tall enough!"
Some choice dive on the levee is gappin' for you. Now, mind you, I won't bail you out. You go into the game with your eyes open," he said, and his banter was highly pleasing to the accused ones. McCleary turned to Harold, whom he knew only as "Hank," and said: "Hank, you ain't sayin' a word; what're your plans?" "I'll stay with you as long as you need me." "All right; I'll take care o' you then."
Then: "Hi, Bud bud-de-de! Hello-o-o, Bud! Come on, wake up!" shouted the leader of the Owl Patrol, cupping his hands about his mouth and directing his voice toward an upstairs window. A moment later the window in question opened and Bud in his undershirt, with a towel in one hand and a cake of soap in the other, appeared. "What're you making such a row for?
Who are you, anyway; and what're you muddling about around here, I'd like to know." After the man had been swallowed up in the depths of the woods Jack made the other lie quiet for something like five minutes. This was to make doubly sure the stranger did not turn on his tracks, and come back again.
"What're you going to do with this young fellow?" queried Bradford, curiously. "That's none of your business," returned Glidden. "Maybe not. But I reckon I'll ask, anyhow. You want me to join your I.W.W., and I'm asking questions. Labor strikes standing up for your rights is one thing, and burning wheat or slugging young farmers is another. Are you going to let this Dorn go?"
"Now what're you fixin' to do with it?" "This will be fed into the diver's sonar along with his own noise output," Tom said, "to make him sound like a porpoise." Chow howled. "That I've got to hear!" The young inventor worked feverishly throughout the day and into the next, perfecting his new "porpoise sonar."
What're we here for if not to bring these people up to our level as rapidly as possible?" "Very well," Mayer conceded grudgingly. "And now I have a complaint. When the Pedagogue first arrived we had only so many weapons aboard. You have appropriated more than half in the past two decades." Chessman shrugged it off. "We'll return the greater part to the ship's arsenal.
She thought of the refrain of a popular song: "What Are You Going to Do to Help the Boys?" Tessie, smiling a crooked little smile up there in the darkness, parodied the words deftly: "What're you going to do to help the girls?" she demanded. "What're you going to do " She rolled over on one side and buried her head in her arms. There was news again next morning at the watch factory.
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