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"Not half so good," said Mr. Littler in a stage whisper. I thought Mr. Stephens spoke satirically, but remembered Mr. Findlay's advice, and if I flushed inwardly, as I believe I did, no outward sign escaped me. After Mr. Stephens, three other opposing counsel fired their guns, but I withstood their shot and shell, and when I came out of the box Mr. Findlay said I had done well.
Over the campfires, during the ensuing campaign in 1765, young Boone was an eager listener to Findlay's stirring narrative of his adventures in the Ohio Valley and on the wonderfully beautiful levels of Kentucky in 1752.
Courthope to let him have another room, but she looked so doubtful that he withdrew his request and went back to his grandfather. It was Saturday, and not many of the boats would go fishing. Among the rest, Findlay's would not leave the harbor till Sunday was over, and therefore Malcolm was free. But he could not rest, and would go line-fishing.
Now, if you had mistaken me for Nicol, that undertaker clerk of Findlay's, who always looks as if he's been burying his grandmother, I should have been decidedly hurt. What in the world do you keep that fellow in the office for, Findlay? To frighten away custom?" Mr. Findlay laughed. "He's a more useful person than you imagine," he said.
This old dream now came to mind again, and every glance from their frost-covered windows at the bleak dreariness without made their vision of tropical forests and coral strands seem the more alluring. The project now began to take on definite shape, and days were spent in poring over Findlay's directories of the Mediterranean, the Indian Ocean, and the South Seas.
Findlay's renewed descriptions of the immense herds of buffaloes he had seen in Kentucky, the great salt-licks where they congregated, the abundance of bears, deer, and elk with which the country teemed, the innumerable flocks of wild turkeys, geese, and ducks, aroused in Boone the hunter's passion for the chase; while the beauty of the lands, as mirrored in the vivid fancy of the Irishman, inspired him with a new longing to explore the famous country which had, as John Filson records, "greatly engaged Mr.
For the Mill team with apparent ease passed in thirteen goals under and over and behind and beside the big broad goal stick of Bell Blackwood, the goal wonder of the League; and the single register for the Eagles had been netted by Fatty Findlay's own stick in a moment of aberration.
The meat was so hot it burned his mouth, and he howled from the pain, but drop it he did not until he was far from the cook. This I consider very plucky in so young a dog! Findlay ran after the little hound, yelling and swearing, and I ran after Findlay to keep him from beating my dog. Of course we did not have beefsteak that day, but, as I told Faye, it was entirely Findlay's fault.
The fancies aroused in his brooding mind by Findlay's moving recital and his description of an ancient passage through the Ouasioto or Cumberland Gap and along the course of the Warrior's Path, inspired him with an irrepressible longing to reach that alluring promised land which was the perfect realization of the hunter's paradise.
A great big, two-hundred-pound monster, who simply threw Snoopy and Georgie Ross all about the rink. It took Captain Jack all his time to stand up against him. And then they ran in goals at a perfectly terrific rate. Two three four five! And only Fatty Findlay's marvelous play kept down the score. I adore Fatty! You know, Mamma, that dear old Scotchwoman " "Scotchwoman?" exclaimed Mrs. Templeton.
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