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As she pronounced the last words of her trusting prayer, and slipped the last of the golden beads along on its string, a thread of sunlight shot into the canon through a deep narrow gap in its rocky eastern crest, shot in for a second, no more; fell aslant the rosary, lighted it; by a flash as if of fire, across the fine-cut facets of the beads, on Ramona's hands, and on the white face of the ivory Christ.
The awful jest bursts upon him; he hears the screaming of the bomb-shell, then the explosion. It is a shock, but he never once loses his self-possession. His quick perception detects Friend Frisbie behind the gun; and he smiles with his intelligent, fine-cut face. Shall malice have the pleasure of knowing that the shot has told? Our orator is too sagacious for that.
He was no more interested in these heathen cities of a heathen East than in an ash-pile through which he might have to rake for a hidden coin. By the time he reached Brindisi he had recovered his lost weight, and added to it, by many pounds. He had also returned to his earlier habit of chewing "fine-cut."
"I look," he said, almost panting. "Then," she said, her fine-cut nostril pinching itself with her breath, as she pointed down the path before her "go! back to your kennel!" That night she appeared at the birth-night ball with the wreath of roses on her head.
Cochrane, an old cattleman whose carefully trimmed, pointed white beard and slender, tapering fingers set him apart from the others in the room, was rather far gone with liquor. He was still stiffly erect in his chair, and would be till the very moment consciousness left him, but his eyes were misty, and when he spoke the fine-cut lips moved slowly, as though numbed by cold.
Upon the table, which seemed somewhat infirm, lay in excellent disorder, a few massive books, two green bags, a jacknife, Murray's Grammar, Walker's largest Dictionary, four large pipes, an ample supply of fine-cut tobacco, and sundry very bad writing materials.
The sad eyes regarded him without interest, but Bard swung from his horse and advanced with outstretched hand. "I may be about here for a few days and we might as well get acquainted, eh? I'll promise to lay off the questions." "I'm Logan." "Glad to know you, Mr. Logan." "Same t'you. Don't happen to have no fine-cut about you?" "No. Sorry." "So'm I. Ran out an' now all I've got is plug.
I've changed my mind some on the subject of presidents since I was a boy." Here Mr. Harum turned on his stool, put his right hand into his sack-coat pocket, extracted therefrom part of a paper of "Maple Dew," and replenished his left cheek with an ample wad of "fine-cut."
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