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Chorus With a whip, snip, high cum diddledy, The cog-wheels of life have need of much oiling; Smack, crack, this is our jubilee: Huzza, my lads! we'll keep the pot boiling. Jansen and Jemmy Ducks, after the dancing chorus had finished Yack alive and merry my boys, Ven he get him frau And he vid her ringlet toys, As he take her paw.
Put the dog on, why don't you?" "Yack is on already," Swan pointed out. "Ride ahead of me, Lone." With a shrug of his shoulders Lone obeyed, following the dog as it trotted through the brush on the trail of a man's footprints which Swan had shown it. A man might have had some trouble in keeping to the trail, but Jack trotted easily along and never once seemed at fault.
Jack went sniffing obediently in wide circles, crossing unconcernedly Lone's footprints while he trotted back and forth. He hesitated once on the trail of the horse he had followed, stopped and looked at Swan inquiringly, and whined. Swan whistled the dog to him with a peculiar, birdlike note and called to Lone. "You come back, Lone, and let Yack take a damn good smell of you.
"Nor had Madero's flying column, as he called it. But he found out a few hours ago. In the confusion I escaped and rode on here. I have a message for you from your son." "My son! Good Heavens! Is Jack in the hands " "He was a prisoner of Madero, but he has escaped, and is now lying wounded at a spot I will guide you to." "Himmel! Yack Merrill a prisoner, alretty!" gasped Herr Geisler.
Swan hooked a finger over the nail that held a cracked cup and glanced over his shoulder at Jack, sitting in the doorway with his keen nose to the world. "You watch out now, Yack. I shall talk to my mother with my thoughts," he said, drawing a hand across his forehead and speaking in breathless gasps. "You watch."
At the farther end of Skyline Meadow he stopped, took a tough leather leash from his pocket and fastened it to Jack's collar. "We don't go running to paw nobody's stomach and say, 'Wow-wow! Here we are back again!" he told the dog, pulling its ears affectionately. "Maybe we get shot or something like that. We trail, and we keep our mouth still, Yack. One bark, and I lick you good!"
"Can you VOKER Rommany?" is given by Mr Hotten as meaning "Can you speak Gipsy," but there is no such word in Rommany as voker. He probably meant "Can you rakker" pronounced very often Roker. Continental Gipsy Rakkervava. Mr Hotten derives it from the Latin Vocare! YACK, a watch, probably received its name from the Gipsy Yak an eye, in the old times when watches were called bull's eyes.
Once the dog Jack swung off the trail into the brush, and Swan followed him while Lone stopped and awaited the result. Swan came back presently, with Jack sulking at his heels. "Yack, he take up the trail of a coyote," Swan explained, "but it's got the four legs, and Yack, he don't understand me when I don't follow. He thinks I'm crazy this morning."
"If you like to find that jong lady, I put Yack on the trail quick," he offered placatingly. "I bet you Yack finds her in one-half an hour." With much unnecessary language, Senator Warfield told him to get to work, and the three tightened cinches, mounted their horses and prepared to follow Swan's lead.
Swan explained with a great deal of labour that he had not thought he was wanted, and that he had to sleep on his claim sometimes or the law would take it from him, maybe. Also he virtuously pointed out that he had come with Yack before daylight to the canyon to see if they had found Miss Hunter and gone home, or if they were still hunting for her.
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