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Updated: May 31, 2025
He was toying impatiently with these recollections when his attention was momentarily attracted by the sound of Fletcher's burly tones on the rear porch just beyond the open window. "I tell you, you've set all the niggers agin me, and I can't get hands to work the crops." "That's your lookout, of course," replied a voice, which he associated at once with young Blake.
The eyes of both men met; Fletcher's in half-wondering annoyance, Grant's in ill-concealed antagonism. What they would have said is not known, for at that moment the voices of Clementina and Mrs. Ramirez were heard in the passage, and they both entered the gallery. The two men were standing together; it was impossible to see one without the other.
The swelling, accumulative character of the eloquence is another proof; for Fletcher's effects are gained not by a few sharp strokes, but by constant iteration, each succeeding line strengthening the preceding until at last we are fronted by a column of very formidable strength. Let us take another extract from the same scene: "Barnavelt.
"Get out o' Mr. Fletcher's road, ye idle, lounging, little " My father and I both glanced round, surprised at her unusual reticence of epithets: but when the lad addressed turned, fixed his eyes on each of us for a moment, and made way for us, we ceased to wonder. Ragged, muddy, and miserable as he was, the poor boy looked anything but a "vagabond." "Thee need not go into the wet, my lad.
Then instantly the silence in the room stopped his heartbeats and set him quaking in a superstitious terror through every fiber. He heard the stir of the mouse in the pile of walnuts, the hissing of the flame above the embers, and the sudden breaking of the smoked chimney of the lamp. Then as he leaned down he heard something else the steady ticking of the big silver watch in Fletcher's pocket.
At last Dare, presuming on the patience with which his insolence had been endured, ventured to shake a switch at the high born and high spirited Scot Fletcher's blood boiled. He drew a pistol and shot Dare dead.
Life is generally hard to such as he, and living close packed together in the hive of a swarming town, with their few joys and many sorrows open for every eye to see, they lose the grace of reticence. "I set up a stitching shop in a shed against Tom Fletcher's house," he said. "There were none of my kin left in the wide world but Minnie, and, if I wasn't a burden, I wanted to live near her.
He had barely glanced at her. "Oh, all right, sir," he said, easily. "They've hardly left off work yet. I'll let 'em know in good time. But first I've got something to show you. Come this way!" He turned towards the main passage, but in a second, sharp and short, Fletcher's voice arrested him. "Warden!" He swung on his heel. "Well, sir?" "You will do as I said immediately!"
"BUCK DUANE! Yes," he broke out, hotly. "The Nueces gunman! That two-shot, ace-of-spades lone wolf! You an' I we've heard a thousand times of him talked about him often. An' here he IN FRONT of you! Poggin, you were backin' Fletcher's new pard, Buck Duane. An' he'd fooled you both but for me. But I know him. An' I know why he drifted in here. To flash a gun on Cheseldine on you on me! Bah!
Fletcher's habit to bury head and arms in a bush either until the hue and cry for him had lulled, or until exasperated searchers knocked against his stern; in the latter event he would explain that he was looking for tennis balls. The habit had persisted. It is a fine thing in this turbulent life thus to have some quiet refuge against the snarlings of adversity. Mr.
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