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"Come on, you slow pokes!" he exclaimed, making for the door; "why, our poor chum might be drowning for all we know, and us wasting time here." "Oh, I reckon it ain't so bad as that," remarked Trapper Jim. "Hard to drown a tall boy in a three-foot deep crick. Besides, he's up the wind from here, while the water lies the other way. That's one reason none of us heard him before."

"Then Simon Halpen compassed his death I am sure of it!" cried the boy. "You well know how he hated father. Halpen would never forget the beech-sealing he got last fall. He threatened to be terribly revenged on us; and Bryce and I heard him threaten father, too, when he fought him upon the crick bank and father tossed the Yorker into the middle of the stream." Bolderwood chuckled.

"Bein' well watered by that same crick, an' havin' good feed both in the Big Flat, as folks calls that country down below us, an' in the foothills. Rattlesnake Valley, over yonder, ain't never been good for much exceptin' the finest breed of serpents an' horn-toads a man ever see outside a circus or the jimjams. There ain't nothin' as 'll grow there outside them animals.

For the first twenty minutes the general harmony of this fine row might be set to music, according to a scale something like this: Whick whack crick crack whick whack crick crack &c, &c, &o. 'Hurroo for the O'Callaghans! 'Mur-ther! murther! Blood and turf! "You are to suppose them, here to have been at it for about half an hour. "'Oh! for the love of.

Much as Mrs. Saunders might deplore it, rumour persistently pointed to the Crick he-cat as the presumable father of sundry kittens of which the Saunders she-cat was indisputably the mother. Mrs. Saunders drowned the kittens, but the disgrace remained. Summer succeeded spring, and winter summer, but the feud outlasted the waning seasons.

She had lovely eyes, dark, smoky-blue under black lashes, and when they held a gentle, half-shy, half-proud invitation, as they did then, they were very unsettling eyes.... And it was hot on that infernal camp stool. And there was a crick in the back of his neck and his errand was glaringly a fool's errand....

And settle down on their striped petticoats, peering up at the statue of the onehandled adulterer. Onehandled adulterer! the professor cried. I like that. I see the idea. I see what you mean. It gives them a crick in their necks, Stephen said, and they are too tired to look up or down or to speak.

Jack's been heah; he say he reck'n you's ben shot, kase you didn' come home no mo'; so I's jes' dis minute a startin' de raf' down towards de mouf er de crick, so's to be all ready for to shove out en leave soon as Jack comes agin en tells me for certain you IS dead. Lawsy, I's mighty glad to git you back again, honey."

Gow," I observed. "Have you got anything to eat?" He touched his cap and nodded. "I says to meself it must be you, sir, d'rectly I heard you comin' round the crick. There ain't much comp'ny 'bout here at night-time." "Nor in the daytime either," I added, pushing the boat off from the bank. "And that's a fact, sir," he remarked, settling down to the oars.

"We foller the bed of the crick that used to run through here 'fore it was dammed a little ways up to make the ice-pond 'tween here an' Spanish Falls," supplied Peter. "Makes a durned good road, 'cept when there's a freshet. It would cost a hull lot o' money to build a road as good as this-un." "I was only thinking 'twould save a mile and more," said O'Dowd.