United States or Peru ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"If there was a moon it wouldn't get through the clouds. It feels to me as if it might rain." "You certainly have cheerful thoughts," Clint grumbled. "I wonder if it would do any good if we yelled." "We might try it. Suppose we give the Brimfield cheer, Clint." "Oh, shut up! You make me tired, Amy. Come on, now. Yell as loud as you can. All ready?" "Hold on I What am I to yell?"
"Well, Master Clint," he said gravely, "I don't blame you for being angry." "Or being puzzled, either?" I put in. "No, sir; nor for being puzzled. And I'm some puzzled myself. But I reckon Paul Downes was jest repeatin' what he'd heard his father say." "That my poor father had to jump overboard from his dory, to save himself from trouble and mother and I from poverty? Why, it's preposterous!"
It seemed to him that Robbins fairly outplayed himself that afternoon, but he failed to take into consideration that his rival was pitted against substitutes or that his own state of mind was rather pessimistic. Practice ended early and after a shower and a rub Clint ambled across to Torrence feeling rather dispirited. The dormitory seemed pretty empty and lonesome as he entered the corridor.
Toward the end of an afternoon, when the third was fortunate enough to get into a few minutes of scrimmage with the second, Clint usually finished up at right or left tackle. But he couldn't help thinking that were he not there his absence would go unremarked.
At sixty Clint Darrow, a widower now and reverent in speech of the departed one whose extravagance he had deplored, came to live at the hotel in three-room grandeur, overlooking the lake. A ruddy, corpulent, paunchy little man, and rakish withal. The hotel widows made much of him.
Roberts, who played opposite Clint, was a big, heavy chap, and when he threw himself forward Clint, who had been playing too high, was hurled aside like a chip and Still went through for three yards before the secondary defence brought him down. Turner thumped Clint on the back. "Watch for that, left tackle! Play lower! Get the jump!"
"All right, but he hasn't said anything like that, has he?" "Not that I know of, but" Amy's smile deepened "something tells me he's going to! Come on over here where I won't have to shout at you." Amy patted the window-seat. "That door isn't so awfully thick, I'm thinking." Clint obeyed, and for the next ten minutes Amy explained and Clint demurred, objected and, finally, yielded.
The rifle lay against the wall behind him, and he turned and touched it almost caressingly. "I ain't let go like this since he was killed, Sinnet. It don't do. I got to keep myself stiddy to do the trick when the minute comes. At first I usen't to sleep at nights, thinkin' of Clint, an' missin' him, an' I got shaky and no good.
Stella Kamps had been a Kansas school teacher in the days before she met and married Clint Kamps. And she had never quite got over it. Things like "Tom Brown At Rugby" and "Hans Brinker, Or the Silver Skates." He had read them, dutifully, but they were as good as new. No thumbed pages, no ragged edges, no creases and tatters where eager boy hands had turned a page over hastily.
And yet he was certainly quicker of movement and had an advantage in reach, and there was a certain careful precision about Penny's movements that encouraged Clint. Dreer had moved well away from the scene and was looking on with eager, excited face, a cruel smile twisting his thin lips. Suddenly Beaufort lunged forward with his right and then shot his second under Penny's guard.
Word Of The Day