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Sukey presented an odd figure, for he wore no uniform. His head was covered with an old, low, broad-brimmed hat. He sat on the carriage of a brass gun near and ate his breakfast, while watching the enemy advance to the attack. Coffee's part of the line, to which Fernando was attached, was on the flank extending to the swamp.
Poor fellow, he was very wet." She looked at my clothes, and then exclaimed: "Why, Mr. Morton, don't you know you are wet through and through?" "Am I?" and I looked down at my soaked garments. "I don't believe you have a dry thread on you." "I've been too excited to think of it. Of course, I got wet on the roof; but what's a summer shower! Your coffee's getting cold." "So is yours."
But I should have been a different chap, I think, if " Foster's voice rang out across the night: "Come on, you two. What are you doing out there? The coffee's boiling over. Buck up." "Right you are." In a second Tester had resumed his old pose of indifference.
And Neale had not lived long with Larry Red King for nothing. "Coffee, you ARE a thief," declared Neale, striding forward. "The worst kind. Because you stole without risk. You can't be punished. But I'll carry this deal higher than you." And quick as a flash Neale snatched some telegrams from Coffee's vest pocket. The act infuriated Coffee. His face went purple.
"Better than cantaloupe," said Dick as he finished half of a big one as a preliminary to his supper, "but what's this you are giving us for coffee?" "Coffee's out," replied Ned. "The fellows that took the rifle cleaned out most of the coffee." "Why didn't you make 'em give it back when you had 'em on the run?" "Reckon I was glad to get out of it as easy as I did.
She got out of a red Toyota truck and waved one hand. "I've got the key," she said. "Did you get anything done?" "Yeah, a start," Oliver said. He installed the software while she made a pot of coffee. "Coffee's on," she said, carrying a cup for herself. "Mugs are in the cupboard above the sink." Oliver decided against a joke about a woman's role in the office.
"Well, gents," said he, "it was a sudden notion she took; but I've got the money, and I let her have her way. She's gone to a corn a conservatory in Boston for four years for to have her voice cultivated. Now, excuse me to pass, gents, for this coffee's hot, and my thumbs is tender." That night there were four instead of three of us sitting on the station platform and swinging our feet.
Sam approached bearing a tray. "De coffee's all ready, Marse Robert 'ceptin' dey ain't no coffee in it. Does ye want a cup? Hit's good, hot black water, sah!" Lee's eyes were not lifted. "No, Sam, thank you." The faithful negro shook his head and walked back to his sorry kitchen. Taylor handed his order to a dust-covered courier. "Take this to Fitz Lee." The courier scratched his head.
"We ran into Swamp Creek on the north side of the river and spent the night there." He watched the agent's face closely, but Steve didn't react. "Come on in," Steve invited. "Coffee's on. Had your breakfast?" "We ate before hauling anchor," Scotty said, grinning. Steve Ames knew the boys well. "Something's up," he stated.
I say, Ben, do wake up; the coffee's nearly ready, and you ought to do a bit o' blacking, for the back of your neck where the jacket doesn't reach is getting quite grey with the sun burning it so much."
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