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Without stopping for words, I dashed into 218, and, going straight to Albert Cullen, I shook him out of a sound sleep, and before he could well understand me I was alternately swearing at him and raging at Lord Ralles.

"Sculpture," relief on walls of west archway. Bela L. Pratt. Rotunda, Entrance Through North Archway William Cullen Bryant, by Herbert Adams. Lafayette, by Paul Weyland Bartlett. The Young Franklin, by Robert Tait. Princeton Student Memorial, by Daniel Chester French. "Architecture," relief by Richard H. Recchia. Commodore John Barry, by John J. Boyle.

Cullen decided to spend there the time they had to wait for his other son to join the party. To pass the hours, I hunted up some ponies, and we spent three days in long rides up the old Santa trail and to the outlying mountains. Only one incident was other than pleasant, and that was my fault.

As for Madge, I couldn't make her out. I had always thought I understood women a little, but her conduct was beyond understanding. Apparently Miss Cullen didn't altogether relish her position, for presently she said she was going to the car.

Owing to this the two missed part of the big game we were playing; for barely were they gone when one of the servants brought a card to Mr. Cullen, who looked at it and exclaimed, "Mr. Camp!" Then, after a speaking pause, in which we all exchanged glances, he said, "Bring him in." On Mr. Camp's entrance he looked so much surprised as we had all done a moment before.

"Don't you work off all your dyspeptic ideas in this neighborhood. My Senator is a great man. They can't appreciate him up here because he's honest crystal clear. I used to think I knew what a decent citizen, a real man, ought to be, but he's taught me some new things. He'll teach them all something before he gets through." Cullen hung one leg over Haines' desk.

The person for whose opinion I cared the most Miss Cullen didn't say anything, but she gave me a look that set my heart beating like a trip-hammer and made me put the most hopeful construction on that speech of hers.

Della was unable to endure the description. "Don't tell me no more, Mrs. Cullen!" she protested. "Poor Tom! I thought Flora was wrong last week whin she hid the whisky. 'Twas takin' it away from him that killed him an' him already so sick!" "Well," said Mrs. Cullen, "he hardly had the strengt' to drink much, she tells me, after he see the big snake an' the little black divil the first time.

On an average of once a week Captain Dan Cullen caught glimpses of the sun. Once, for ten minutes, the sun shone at midday, and ten minutes afterward a new gale was piping up, both watches were shortening sail, and all was buried in the obscurity of a driving snow-squall. For a fortnight, once, Captain Dan Cullen was without a meridian or a chronometer sight.

Captain Dan Cullen smoked another long, silent minute. Then he removed the cigar from his mouth. He glanced aloft at the spars of the Mary Rogers, and overside at the sea. "Sheet home the royals!" he cried. Fifteen minutes later they sat at table, in the cabin, with food served before them. On one side of George Dorety sat Dan Cullen, the tiger, on the other side, Joshua Higgins, the hyena.