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Updated: June 18, 2025
"We used to know each other in New York. He had even more adventures than I did getting there." "And you escaped?" "Yop." "We put one over on 'em," said Archer. They let us have some chemical stuff to fix the pump engine with and we melted the barbed wire with it and made a place to crawl out through. I got a piece of the barbed wirre for a sooveneerr.
Her voice was rich and though she looked above, away from and through Warble, yet she saw her. "So glad to welcome you, you pretty baby," she chirruped. "You're going to love us all, aren't you?" "Yop," said Warble, and smiled her engaging smile. "You bet she'll love us," declared Leathersham, "she'll make the world go round!
We haven't even got one in the city where I live." "Hear that?" Tom said. "That's a thrush." "A thrush?" "Yop; go on," Tom said. "So they elected me to win the Eagle award. Some choice, hey? I had seven badges to begin with; maybe that's why they wished it onto me. I had camping, cooking, athletics, pioneering, angling, that's a cinch, that's easy, and, let's see carpentry and bugling.
"Yop," said the boy, with one eye upon the stout matron, who was critically examining the meat that he had brought. "Yop, the auction's over, an' Cap'n Rose, he Don't that cut suit you, Miss Abigail? You won't find a better, nicer, tenderer, and more juicier piece of shoulder this side of New York. Take it back, did you say? All right, ma'am, all right!"
You're one yourself, you can't deny it. No, sir, you can't get above that no, siree.... Do you mean to tell me that there's anything higher in scouting than the Eagle award?" he asked defiantly, after a pause. "Yop, there is," said Tom, unmoved. Hervey paused in consternation. "Well, I'm for the Eagle award, anyway," he finally said. "That's good enough for me.
"Sago," returned the Trackless, in his deep, guttural voice, while old Yop brought two lips together that resembled thick pieces of overdone beef-steak, fastened his red-encircled gummy eyes on each of us in turn, pouted once more, working his jaws as if proud of the excellent teeth they still held, and said nothing.
Hello, Iva Payne!" "Hello," languidly responded a girl like a long pale lily a Burne-Jones type, who sometimes carried around a small stained-glass window to rest her head against. "Are you really Bill's wife?" she asked, a little disinterestedly, of Warble. "Yop," said Warble, and made a face at her. "How quaint," said Iva. "Whoopee, Baby!
But here comes Jacob with his letters and papers I declare, the fellow has a large basket-full." Jacob, a highly respectable black, and the great-grandson of an old negro named Jaaf, or Yop, who was then living on my own estate at Ravensnest, had just then entered, with the porter and himself lugging in the basket in question. There were several hundred newspapers, and quite a hundred letters.
"Sweet yourself!" roared Porgie, and grabbed her all up in his gorilla-like arms just as a ringing, musical, "Ship ahoy!" sounded on their ears. "Hello there, Warbie!" She knew then it was Petticoat. "Having a walk?" he inquired, casually. "Yop," she casualed back. He pulled his skiff up alongside, threw Porgie into the deep pool and snatched Warble in beside himself.
"Yop, an' they only riz one hundred dollars an' two cents one hundred dollars an' a postage-stamp. I guess it's all up with the cap'n an' the Old Men's. I don't see 'em hangin' out no 'Welcome' sign on the strength of that."
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