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When it set in a clear sky, it only gilded the border of pine trees on the crest of the lofty western heights; to-day it was invisible, and the occasional, quickly interrupted twittering of the birds seemed more in harmony with the threatening clouds and sultry atmosphere than the lad's gay laughter.
The lad's mother had followed him; nobody remained to the judge now out of those days of his struggle and slow-mounting hope, save old Hiram, his negro man, a family servitor since the times of slavery, and he was trembling on the limb to fall.
"Isn't there anything I can do, Dad?" he desperately inquired one evening, after his mother had all but read him to sleep with the life of Benjamin Franklin. "What do you mean, son?" asked Mr. Burton, dropping his paper and emerging abruptly from Wall Street, his attention arrested more by the lad's tone than by his words. "I mean isn't there anything at all I can do?
Just the man I wanted to see. Want a job?" "Got more jobs than I can tend to now, young man. Anything the matter with you? You look as tough as a two year old rooster." The old man's small, kindly, shrewd eyes scanned the lad's face as he spoke. "Smoking less, sleeping more, nerves steadier, working harder, playing the devil lighter," he gummed up silently with satisfaction.
Anyhow, though a lad can be trained to strict moderation, abstinence in both alcohol and tobacco must after a time come of the lad's own free will; the last thing that answers is to multiply and enforce restrictions; the rebound is inevitable and often fatal.
He had accounted for a German trooper who had sought to bring his rifle butt down on the lad's head and was now engaged with two other troopers, who sought to end his career with bayonets. Chester sprang nimbly back as the two men advanced on him. One tripped and stumbled over a fallen comrade and as he did so Chester took advantage of his misfortune to strike with his sword.
The walls were covered with books, as the bright flame of the fire revealed to the anxious gaze of the little culprit. The clergyman lit a lamp, and surveyed his prisoner attentively. The lad's eyes were fixed on the ground, whilst Mr.
The lad's uneasiness was increased by the fact that Deerfoot was manifestly looking over his head and into the forest behind Jack, as though the object which caused his remarks was coming from that direction. "The Indian is not far off he is coming this way he will be in camp in a breath."
But when the narrator descended to tell of fishes that were able to raise themselves out of the water in flight, the old lady's credulity began to fancy itself imposed upon; for she indignantly repressed what she considered the lad's tendency to exaggeration, saying, "Sugar mountains may be, and rivers of rum may be, but fish that flee ne'er can be!"
Bert looked from the big double doors. He could see the horses floundering around. One had fallen down, but none of them seemed to be injured. The valuable steeds had been saved by the lad's ready wit. "I wonder if there's anything more we can save?" asked Vincent. "Let's see if we can't shove out the mowing machine," suggested Bert. "If it falls in the muck it can't be damaged much."
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