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"They say Mr. Harpe has had a career both high, wide, and handsome." "That's what I'd call one too many," grinned Rod Rockwell. "You can put down a bet the career has been one too many, too." "Yeah?" said Rod, wondering what was coming next. "Yeah," said Racey, nodding mysteriously, but disappointing his friend by immediately changing the subject.
She felt both uneasy and irritated by the expression on his face. Symes watched her swaggering down the sidewalk to the gate, and when it had slammed behind her, he said, sharply "I'll be greatly obliged to you, Augusta, if you will ask Dr. Harpe not to abbreviate your name. It's vulgar and I detest it." Mrs. Symes turned and regarded him coolly for a moment before answering.
"Wouldn't their eyes bung out if I showed 'em their own bones! I could soak 'em twice the fee and they'd never peep." Lamb discouraged the idea for the present on the grounds of economy and advised a sterilizing apparatus instead, which Dr. Harpe opposed for the same reason. If Dr.
A general of twenty-six years to have the direction of an army, whose four corps were commanded by Generals Massena, Augereau, Serrurier, and La Harpe! The father of Junot, the late Duke de Abrantes, wrote at that time to his son, who was with the French army in Italy: "Who is this General Bonaparte? Where has he served? Does anybody know any thing about him?"
Dan Treu and the coroner, who was also the local baker, started immediately for the sheep-ranch, and Dr. Harpe accompanied them. "Ess looked about 'all in," she said in explanation. They found the girl and the Dago Duke waiting by the fire which he had built outside the cabin.
But can we demand of the bird that he fly under the receiver of an air-pump? What a multitude of beautiful scenes the people of taste have cost us, from Scudéri to La Harpe! A noble work might be composed of all that their scorching breath has withered in its germ. However, our great poets have found a way none the less to cause their genius to blaze forth through all these obstacles.
"Yeah old Dale and a stranger." Racey nodded. He knew with a great certainty what was coming next. "Anybody hurt?" he asked. "Old Dale." "Bad?" "Killed." Racey nodded again. "Even break?" "We don't think so," Thompson stated, frankly. "Who's we?" queried Racey. "Oh, Austin, Honey Hoke, Doc Coffin, McFluke, Jack Harpe, Lanpher, and Luke Tweezy.
Once in his room Racey again explored his own and Swing's saddlebags and cantenas, looked under the cots and through the bedclothes. But he found nothing that did not belong to either himself or Swing. "They didn't make a second trip," he said to himself. "I'm betting it's Jack Harpe. Shore it is, the polecat."
It was Jack Harpe speaking. Racey and Swing had met him on the sidewalk in front of Lainey's hotel shortly after breakfast the following morning, and Racey had told him of their ultimate decision. As he spoke Mr. Harpe braced an arm against the side of the building, crossed his feet, and scratched the back of his head.
"Like her!" he answered slowly. "Like her! Her heart is as black as my hat." To herself Dr. Harpe was saying: "Moses! I had to start in on somebody." It was with relief that she looked through her office window after supper and saw that the wagon was gone from the vacant lot. "Good riddance!" she muttered. "I wouldn't have that black-eyed devil hanging around this town for money.
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