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We'll visit this Lungtungpen to-night. "The bhoys was fairly woild wid deloight whin I tould 'em; an', by this an' that, they wint through the jungle like buck-rabbits. About midnight we come to the shtrame which I had clane forgot to minshin to my orficer. I was on, ahead, wid four bhoys, an' I thought that the Lift'nint might want to theourise.
Bragin's face I think I'm for a dhressin'-down worse than I gave you. "An' I was! Annie Bragin was woild wid indignation. There was not a name that a dacint woman cud use that was not given my way.
If you knowed der trick of breakin' a bloke's wrist dere ain't no duffer in der woild dat can do yer. I'll show yer der crack fer sixty pound. He wouldn't come down a little bit, an' I paid him wot he asked. Since dat time I've knocked roun' all over der woild, an' it's saved me life fife times. Dat was a cheap trick wot I got from old Jem, dat were.
Six per ain't all de dough dere is in de woild, but, bein' cashier, see, you can swipe a whole heap more whenever you feel like it. And if Tony registers a kick, I'll come around and talk to him see? Dat's right. Good-morning, loidy." And, having delivered these admirable hints to young cashiers in a hurry to get rich, Mr.
The pumper had not gone home as yet and he remarked, that it was "goin' to be a woild night," but he hoped "the whistlin' av the wind would be after kaping me company," and with that he jumped on the velocipede, and off he went. I didn't much relish the idea of the storm, for I knew the reputation of Kansas as a cyclone state, and my box-car office was not well adapted to stand a hurricane.
Her companion, a tall, fair-haired woman with pale eyes, light as the grey-green sheen sometimes seen on the waters before a storm, was reclining in tired idleness beside her. This woman had not spoken to Maren, but her cold eyes followed her now with an odd persistence. "Or is it too wild and sad? If it gives ye pain, don't say a word, though, wurra! 'tis woild I am to hear!"
"Sivin an' fifty men sittin' on the bank av a canal, laughin' at a poor little squidgereen av an orf'cer that they'd made wade into the slush an' pitch things out av the boats for their Lord High Mightinesses. That made me orf'cer bhoy woild wid indignation.
The small boy, who had climbed to the top of his fence, immediately joined the conversation: "Your girl's a winner, mister," he observed, critically. "Are you going to keep quiet?" demanded Brown, starting across the fence. "Sure," said the small boy, carelessly. And, settling down on his lofty perch of observation, he began singing: "Lum' me an' the woild is mi-on."
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