“’Pears to me, Pat Bliggins, you haven’t been listenin’ proper to the story. These men rode a ship not a cayuse.”
“Please,” answered the discomfited youth, “I aint never seen a ship of no kind.”
Mrs. Wopp’s face assumed a forgiving air as she accepted this defence. Then began that portion of the story that leads up to the tragic culmination.
“So they took up Joner an’ tossed him inter the sea.”
Mrs. Wopp then proceeded to enlarge on the horrific pilgrimage of Jonah through the vasty interior caverns of the whale.
“For three days an’ three nights there was no sleep fer his eyes nor slumber fer his eyelets.”
A loud whisper from Pete Stolway disturbed the orator.
“Peter Stolway, may I arsk you to tell out loud what you was whisperin’?”
“I just said the whale must have been bustin’?” admitted Pete, reluctantly. Mrs. Wopp could not logically argue the point with the astute Peter, so she went on to depict vividly Jonah’s further vicissitudes.
“The whale went splurgin’ an’ splutterin’ through the waves, mebbe blowin’ up a big waterspout like we see them doin’ in the jography picters. Then Joner prayed like everything an’ wrastled with the Lord, an’ his prayer was heerd, an’ the whale spit him up on the bank.”