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Updated: June 2, 2025
"'Well, says Sammy, 'what's the matter with chuckin' them eight hundred an' sixty-four "Wages of Sin" into the rustic communities of this commonwealth of Iowa, U.S.A.? Here we've got a barnful of high-class, intellectooal poem, an' yon we have a State full of yearnin' minds, clamorous for mental improvement at one fifty per volume.
There's a heap o' wonnerfu' things there, they tell me; an' whiles a strokin win' an' whiles a rosy smell, an' whiles a bricht licht, an' whiles, they say, an auld yearnin' sang, 'ill brak oot, an' wanner awa doon, an' gang flittin' an' fleein' amang the sair herts o' the men an' women fowk 'at canna get things putten richt."
"I want to show you how you can't do those things the old your housekeeper was yearnin' to do. Y' see, you can't get a 'hired' man nearer than Leeson Butte. You can't get him in less'n two weeks. You can't do the chores yourself, an' that old your housekeeper ain't fit to do anything but make hash. Then you can't let the stock go hungry.
Any feller who ain't o' the same opinion ken git right up on to his hind legs an' call me a 'liar' an' I'm jest yearnin' fer some feller to git around an' call me that. Jest turn it over in your fool heads. You don't need to hurry any. Ther's days an' days to come, an' at any time I'll be glad fer all o' you to come along an' tell me I'm a liar." He paused, his fierce eyes gleaming. He felt good.
"There's a squad of buddies that I'll bet ain't yearnin' to hear someone yell 'Shun! at 'em again," I suggests. "Know any of 'em?" "It is quite possible," says Hartley, glancin' at 'em casual. "They all look so much alike, you know." With that he gets back to his Reserve Army scheme and he sure does give me an earful.
The locomotive might drop dead of senile decay. Maybe the train crew's got drunk, and is raisin' hell at some wayside city. You never can tell on a branch line. Then there's that cargo of liquor you're yearnin' to " "Cut it out, man," broke in the officer sharply. "You are sure about the train? You know what you're talking about?" The agent grinned harder than ever.
Thanks to you, all the same, an' no offence meant," he added in a gentler tone, turning to the astonished steward, and patting him on the shoulder, "but if you had suffered all that I have suffered through bein' a slave to the glass and the pipe when I thought I was no slave, mark you, an' would have larfed any one to scorn who'd said I wos if you'd see'd me groanin', an yearnin', an' dreamin' of baccy an' grog, as I have done w'en I couldn't get neither of 'em for love or money you wouldn't wonder that I ain't goin' to be such a born fool as to go an' sell myself over again!"
An' say, I'm yearnin' jest gaspin' to wipe out the score. I don't sort o' care a bit for your loss. That ain't my funeral. But they've beat me plumb out same as if I was some sucker who ain't never roped an' branded a three-year-old steer since I was pupped. Are you comin' along? They struck out northwest. We got that, an' the boys is follerin' hard on their trail.
"Nice-a man, Meester Hama." "Is he?" says I. "Well, you wait here until I see him about this. Wait understand?" With that I skips upstairs, and explains the mystery of our bein' mobbed. "It's a whiskered freak on the top floor they're after," says I. "Swifty, run up and get that Ham and Eggs gent. I'm yearnin' for speech with him.
It's a sort of pie that ain't had no sweetenin', I guess. An' my stomach's yearnin' for sugar. That play of yours has got me itching to take a hand. Still, I guess this darn ol' camp needs holding up, an' if you need me here you can count me in to the limit." Kars nodded unsmilingly. He knew Abe, second only to his knowledge of Bill Brudenell. That limit was a big one. It meant all he desired.
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