A rag baby apiece contented us, and if we had a set of jackstones we were perfectly happy.
"The Promised Land"
Mary Antin
Our jackstones, by the way, were not stones but bones.
"The Promised Land"
Mary Antin
Now fairly at its dread work of destruction, tearing up the rain dampened dirt and playing with mighty boulders, tossing them here and there, as a giant of olden tales might play with jackstones, snapping off sturdy trees and whipping them to splinters even while hurling them as a farmer sows his grain.
"The Lost City"
Joseph E. Badger, Jr.