He did not even know that a hip had been dislocated.

Anderson insisted upon a post-mortem examination, but was laughed out of countenance by the officious M.D.
"I voted fer that fool last November," said Anderson wrathfully, as the coroner drove off, "but you c'n kick the daylights out of me if I ever do it ag'in.

Look out there, Bud! What in thunder are you doin' with them pistols?
Doggone, ain't you got no sense?
Pointin' 'em around that way.

Why, you're liable to shoot somebody--" "Aw, them ain't pistols," scoffed Bud, his mouth full of something.
"They're bologny sausages.

I ain't had nothin' to eat sence last night and I'm hungry." "Well, it's dark out here," explained Anderson, suddenly shuffling into the jail.