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I'm going to keep on with you unless you and Ike throw me out of the boat." "Well spoke, boy," said Jarvis. He did not tell Harry that Colonel Kenton had asked him to watch over his son until he should leave him in the mountains, and that he had given him his sacred promise.

"Well, I s'pose you ducks spent every cent you had and had to walk five miles from the fair ground," said Uncle Ike, as he opened the gate and let them fall inside and drop on the grass, their shoes covered with dust, and their clothes the same.

There was old Ike Keator, who lived in a little unpainted house beside the road near the top of the mountain where we passed over into Batavia Kill. He lived there many years. He had a rich brother, a farmer in the valley below. Then there was Eri Gray, who lived to be over one hundred years. He occupied a little house on the side of a mountain, and lived, it was said, like the pigs in the pen.

It was not until we were at the supper table that evening with Halstead sitting at his place, his eye still bandaged that I found a chance to explain fully why I had been gone so long on my errand. Theodora and grandmother actually shed tears over my account of poor little Ike.

"I did go down to join him, Sir Francis," I replied. "I saw him asleep and tipsy in among the black currants and I left him there, and took this key to-night to wake him up and let him out by the gate in the wall." "Why not through the coach-yard?" "Because I was afraid he would meet Mr Solomon Brownsmith, and get into disgrace for drinking." "Thankye, Mars Grant, thankye kindly," said Ike.

The boy dropped the key, after ticking to the imaginary general office not to disturb him with any messages for half an hour, as he was going to be busy on an important matter, and he went to his room and soon appeared at the breakfast table, and after the breakfast was over, and the old man had lighted his pipe, the boy said: "Now, Uncle Ike, tell me all you know about railroading in one easy lesson, for I have to go to a directors' meeting at ten, and then we are going out to look over the right of way," and the boy ticked off a message to have his special car ready at eleven-thirty, stocked for a trip over the line.

"Where are they now Bradley and the boy, I mean?" "Down by the mules! The boy, who is constantly called Mike ostentatiously called by that name wants to ride Uncle Ike! Fat time hell have if he gets aboard of that argumentative brute!" "Are they going to help eat the chicken?" asked Ned. "Sure!

I can see the green fields, the pleasant meadows, the little brook that crossed them. I remember my mother gave me bread and milk for my supper, always. My sister washed my bare feet, when I was a little, little boy." He paused and leaned one hand against a porch post, thinking. "A little, little boy," he repeated to himself. "No, it isn't," he thought. "It's Ike Anderson, growing up.

"No, sir!" declared Ike; "afore I indulged in the expression, so proper under the tryin' circumstances, I looked round to make sartin she wasn't in hearing distance." "You must have looked very quick," said Vose; "for the horrible words was simultaneous with the flattenin' of your big forefinger. Howsumever, I gazed round myself and am happy to say she warn't in sight.

I was full of imaginings of horror, and I fancied the fearful splash, the darkness, the rising to the surface, and then the poor wretch myself perhaps striving to get my fingers in between the slippery bricks, and getting no hold, and then "There! what did I tell you?" said Mr Solomon. "She's a foul un, and no mistake," growled Ike. "Oh! that's nothing," said the plumber.