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Updated: May 4, 2025
At this point, some one recognised "Cobbler" Horn. "Yah!" he cried, "it ain't a fight, after all! It's 'the Golden Shoemaker' a-collarin' a cove wot's drunk!" At the announcement of "the Golden Shoemaker," the people crowded up more closely than ever. While all had heard of that glittering phenomenon, perhaps few had actually seen him, and the present opportunity was not to be lost.
We chases around the block and rings up the janitor of the flat buildin'. He's a wrinkled, blear-eyed old pirate, just on his way to the corner with a tin growler. "Yah! You won't git in to sell him no books," says he, leerin' at us. "Think so?" says I, displayin' a quarter temptin'. "Maybe if we had his name, though, and knew something about him, we might "
"Just as we got to the little pine-trees where the old Sioux trail stops," answered Molly, promptly. "Yah!" ejaculated the Indian, grimly, in a tone of conviction. Then, turning, he took down a Winchester rifle, slung it over his shoulder, and started towards the door, saying to Molly as he did so: "You stay here with Wallula. I go up to fort and tell 'em 'bout you."
Ve got t' haf dot fence, yet!" "I'll make you another in a minute!" cried Pop. "You don't go on for ten minutes." "Mine gracious! Vot a business!" exclaimed the German, his round face showing as much woe as he ever allowed it to depict. "Dot vos a fine fence, mit der evening-glory vines trailing 'round mit it. Ach, yah!"
Yah! These pagan meditations were interrupted by a footfall slowly approaching. I did not turn to ascertain who it might be, but trusted it was no one of importance, as the poddy and I presented rather a grotesque appearance. It was one of the most miserable and sickly of its miserable kind, and I was in the working uniform of the Australian peasantry.
Dexter would gladly have lain down to rest, but there was a watch to keep up. Bob mocked at the idea. "Yah!" he said; "he won't some any more. I say, are you nearly dry?" "Nearly," said Dexter, "all but my boots and socks." These he took off, and put in the sun to dry, as he sat there with his elbows on his knees, and his chin on his hands, watching till Bob was asleep.
"Oh," said Tom, "you are an ugly fellow to be sure!" and he began making faces at him; and put his nose close to him, and halloed at him like a very rude boy. When, hey presto; all the thing's donkey-face came off in a moment, and out popped a long arm with a pair of pincers at the end of it, and caught Tom by the nose. It did not hurt him much; but it held him quite tight. "Yah, ah!
One evening, as Janet was walking home, she chanced to overhear a conversation taking place in the dark vestibule of a tenement. "Working to-day?" "Yah." "Work to-morrow?" Hesitation. "I d'no." "You work, I cut your throat." A significant noise. "Naw, I no work." "Shake!" She hurried on trembling, not with fear, but exultingly.
Yah! what an old tub! You'll never get back with that scow!" "I'd like to thrash them!" sputtered Percival, who was of an impulsive disposition. "I'm sorry that they are going to be with us this summer, but I guess their fathers think they are better off with the doctor to keep them in check than they would be sporting away their money at fashionable summer resorts."
"Just you lose your footing, and come down with your ribs on the edge of that table, and see if you wouldn't be hurt." "But I mean shot wounded." "Yah! no. He couldn't hit a hay-stack, sir. I'm all right." "Let me try," said Dick Bannock, "while he's loading his pea-shooter."
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