United States or South Africa ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Dave had caught him in the nick of time. Len had looked around, to make sure he was unobserved, but his back was toward our hero, who was down in a little hollow. "The sneak!" murmured Dave. Then, silently, he began stalking the bully, who was preparing to go back to his own horse, that was standing with reins over its head. Len's object was plain.
Drawing the net upon the beach, the fish were taken out and carried to Captain Len's landing, inside of the inlet, where they were packed in the refrigerator of a fleet-sailing boat, which, upon receiving its cargo, started immediately for Pensacola.
Martie, with a faded pink gingham dress spread across her lap, would be eight again, trotting off to school with Sally, and promising Ma to hold Len's hand when they crossed Main Street.
Malcolm asked magnificently. "Yes, sir." Martie stirred as if to turn and go. "One moment," Malcolm said discontentedly. "You thoroughly understand me, do you?" "Yes, sir." Martie's eyes met Len's discreetly raised over the edge of his book and full of reproachful interest. She went into the kitchen. The spell of a nervous silence which had held the dining room was broken. Mrs.
As we had not left Captain Len's landing until afternoon, we made only ten miles that night, and camped, supper-less, on "Twelve Mile Point," but making an early start the next morning, we reached at noon the eastern shore of the bay near the log cabin of the man of murderous deeds, to whom we were to look for assistance in the transportation of our boats across the wilderness to the next inland watercourse.
But I fooled you that time, Len Molick, and I'll fool you again. Now I want to know something else. Is Whitey Wasson the only one who told you I that I wasn't Mr. Carson's son?" For the life of him Dave could not help the falter that crept into his voice. "Yes; he's the only one who told me," was Len's sullen answer. "How did he find out about it?" "Huh! How should I know? Ask him!"
An education." Mittie Scaritt had always had ambition and a fierce sort of pride. She had needed them to combat Len's shiftlessness and slack good nature.
"Oh, I do not!" said Sally, flushing and giggling in the old way. "Len's first little suit," Lydia mused. "Dear me dear me! And this old table-cover; I remember when that was new! And here are Aunt Carrie's things; she sent Ma a great box of them when she died; look, Sally, the old-fashioned sleeves with fibre-chamois in them!
"Guess you must want a drink too, Crow," said Dave aloud, and his horse whinnied as though understanding. Dave saw Len's horse, which the young rascal had abandoned, taking a long drink from a pool that had formed under the railroad tank. Dave's horse needed no urging toward the inviting water and soon both master and beast were drinking deeply.
I demand an explanation. How do you know Mr. Carson isn't my father?" "Well, I know all right. He picked you up somewhere. He doesn't know what your name is himself. He just let you use his, and he called you Dave. You're a nobody I tell you!" Dave spurred his horse until it was close beside that of Len's.
Word Of The Day