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Updated: June 5, 2025
If y' find no spring, y'll need the water to-morrow; but A'll take y'r flask of brandy if y' don't mind?" "That's a fool thing to take in the heat, sir." "'Tis if y' intend to live, Wayland; but A'm at the end of this Trail. A'd like a bit strength t' tell y' a thing or two before . . . as we rest! Don't waste any water on flap jacks." The mule lay rolling in the sage brush.
"I aint said nothin' about y'r uncle as aint public anyways. It's in the papers off an' on, see? An' now another election's comin' down the pike, y'll have to be gittin' used to all kinds o' spiels. Fac's is fac's, kid, an' when I says the Hon.
"Y'll 'ave to clap a beefsteak on that ogle of yours, where you napped the Dutchman's auctioneer, Byron. It's got more yellow paint on it than y'll like to show in church to-morrow." At this they all gave a roar of laughter, and entered a third-class carriage. Lydia and Alice had but just time to take their places in the train before it started.
"It's all right," he added, very softly, "an', Half-breed, me b'y, if me frinds have turned inimies, why, I'm thinkin' me inimy has turned frind, for that I'm sure you were, an' this I'm certain y 'are. So here's the grip av me fist, an' y'll have it." Pierre remembered that disconcerting, iron grip of friendship for many a day.
Get them, then go on for the Man Higher Up! Leave me, when A drop back in the dark to-night; if A'm in my senses, A'll shout a bravo and give y' a wave! Y'r the Man on the Job, the Nation's job! 'Tis not by bludgeons and bayonets, 'tis by ballots and brains y'll fight this battle out; and fight y' must or y'r freedom will go the way o' the old world despotisms down in a welter.
And he wants t' marry y'! And y'll have such a nice place t' live in. Oh, things'll be fine!" That helped a little; but soon, "I want to lie down!" she complained. "Oh, Johnnie, it hurts to sit like this all the time! Can't you reach me? Oh, try to untie me!" "Cis, I can't," he protested, once more. "But it'll be mornin' before y' know it! W'y, it's awful late in the night right now!
Better come along! If A can find it to my neck, y'll need a cant hook to get me out 'fore daylight!" They had come back from their plunge and were spreading the slickers above the fir branches for bed, when Matthews began to talk in a low dreamy voice, more as a man thinking out loud than one uttering a confessional. It was the first word of religion the Ranger had heard him utter.
"Why didn't she come and ax? All the same, I ain't a saying nowt again Fanny. But, Muster Fenwick, if you ever come to have one foot bad o' the gout, it won't make you right to know that the other ain't got it. Y'll have the pain a gnawing of you from the bad foot till you clean forget all the rest o' your body. It's so with me, I knows." "What can I say to you, Mr. Brattle? I do feel for you.
"An' y'll have Subadar Goordit Singh with his kahars and his bhistis and his dhooly bearers an' his Lushai dandies an' his bloomin' bullock-carts steppin' on y'r tail as ye travel, Misther Connor!" "Me tail is the tail of a kangaroo; I'm strongest where they tread on me, Coolin," answered Connor.
The longshoreman turned toward her now, and his look was full of hate. "I guess y'll do jus' about what I tell y' to," he said significantly. "Algy's goin' t' be too sick t' look after y'." Johnnie emitted a woeful little peep. "Oo-oo! Mister Perkins!" he pleaded. "Couldn't y' put off fightin' till till some other time?" Johnnie's anxious demand amused Big Tom.
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