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"I did nothing, only let go so as to make a fresh start." "Did you?" said Aleck, quietly. "Ah, I didn't know anything about that. I only knew that it was very horrible, and I thought it was all over. It was very near, wasn't it?" "Oh, I don't know," said the middy, coolly. "You say that you didn't have a fair start?" "No; it was that fall. But it's queer work.
It was right under the arc light, and Jord recognized Franz 'Little Hungary' you know with his fiddle under his arm, crossing to go in at the stage door of the Victoria Theatre, where he plays. The boy didn't see them at all. "Neither Jord nor Aleck can tell much about it yet, of course, but from the little I got I know as well as if I had been there what happened.
The captain?" cried the sailor, in a startled tone of voice. "Phe-ew!" he whistled. "I forgot all about him. I say, my lad, he won't like to see you this how." "No," said Aleck, dismally. "Arn't got no aunts or relations as you could go and see for a fortnit, have you?" "No, Tom; I have no relatives but Uncle Donne." "That's a pity, sir. Well, I dunno what you'd better do."
When Sailor Jack had been at home long enough to find out how and by whom his mother was being persecuted, he told Aleck Webster about it, and the latter stopped it so quickly that everybody was astonished, and the guilty ones alarmed. While Marcy was gone to take his brother out to the fleet, a very strange and startling incident happened on Mrs. Gray's plantation.
The chain slipped up on the root, tightened, bit into the wood, and then the blacks flung back. Ranald swung them round the point and tried them again, but still the stump refused to budge. All this time he could hear Aleck chopping furiously at his elm-roots, and he knew that unless he had his stump out before his rival had his chain hitched for the pull the victory was lost.
The songs of him hushed the singing-birds on the tree, and the fiddle he would play to take the soul out of your body. There was no white one among us till he was born. "The rest of us all were just Indians ay, Indians, Aleck McTavish. Brown we were, and the desire of us was all for the woods and the river. Godfrey had white sense like my father, and often we saw the same look in his eyes.
Jim laughed, remembering certain incidents on the Jeanne D'Arc. "Do you know," Chamberlain continued, "I'm convinced the bloomin' beggar is hiding about here somewhere. I'm glad Aleck is getting away." "I thought the evidence favored the theory that Chatelard had made straight for New York." "Not a bit of it. Aleck and I let you all believe that, for the sake of the ladies.
You got a good deal knocked about, then?" "I don't quite know, uncle. I suppose so. It all seems very dreamy now." "Consequence of injury to the head. Soldiers are in that condition sometimes after a blow from the butt end of a musket." "Are they, uncle?" asked Aleck, who was half ready to believe that this was all part of his dream.
That was a dream of Sergeant Fones; but you see he believes it true. It is good sport, eh? Will you not take what is it? a silent partner? Yes; a silent partner, Old Aleck. Pretty Pierre has spare time, a little, to make money for his friends and for himself, eh?" When did not Pierre have time to spare? He was a gambler.
Yesterday, Aleck, the youth who fulfils the duties of what you call a waiter, and we in England a footman, gave me a salad for dinner, mixed with so large a portion of the soil in which it had grown, that I requested him to-day to be kind enough to wash the lettuce before he brought it to table.
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