United States or Saint Pierre and Miquelon ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
You haven't any blank paper you could lend me, Jimmy?" "I have, but I won't lend it." Yates took out his pencil, and pulled down his cuff. "Now, Mac," he said, "tell me all you saw of this fight." The blacksmith talked, and Yates listened, putting now and then a mark on his cuff. Sandy spoke occasionally, but it was mostly to tell of sledge-hammer feats or to corroborate something the boss said.
This was followed by heavy footsteps, and in another moment the dining-room door was flung open. The doctor jumped to his feet. "Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know. "Tom! Hey, Tom!" The Chinese cook thrust his head into the dining room. "Those chops, fried potatoes, and buttered toast." "Aw light!"
This must have been Mac's, in which case he is only wounded, or perhaps only his machine was badly damaged. There is a general feeling among us that Mac is all right. The French cavalry are within ten or fifteen kilometers of Tergnier now and perhaps they will take the place to-morrow, in which case we will certainly learn something.
"White fellow, big-fellow-fool all right," he said contemptuously, when Mac explained that it was generally so in the white man's country. A Briton of the Billingsgate type would have appealed to Jackeroo as a man of sound common sense. By the time the men-folk appeared, he had decided that with a little management I would be quite an ornament to society.
Bessie was sorry to disturb him, but it was too late to draw back, for Mac had already seen her, and had roused his master by his uneasy efforts to get free, and Mr. Sefton rose, with the awkward abruptness that seemed natural to him, and lifted his cap. "Good morning, Miss Lambert. You are an early riser. My mother and Edna are hardly awake yet."
Abruptly Mac got up and disappeared in the night, muttering something about looking after the horses. His partner understood well enough what was the matter. The redheaded puncher was in a stress of emotion, and like the boy he was he did not want Curly to know it. Flandrau pretended to be asleep when Mac returned half an hour later.
"He's got a team of Esquimaux dogs calls 'em Mahlemeuts, and he's got a birch-bark canoe, and a skin kyak from the coast." Then with an inspiration: "His people are the sort of Royal Family down there," added the Boy, thinking to appeal to the Britisher's monarchical instincts. Mac had meditatively laid his hand on a side of bacon, the Boy's eyes following.
The Colonel, Potts, and the Boy selected the stone, and brought it on a rude litter out of a natural quarry from a place a mile or more away up on the bare mountain-side. O'Flynn mixed and handed up the mud-mortar, while Mac put in some brisk work with it before it stiffened in the increasing cold.
"I'd furl the top-gallant sails and get her stay-sails down, Mr. McPherson." Whenever he gave an order he was careful to give the mate his full title, though at other times he called him indiscriminately Sandy or Mac. The mate gave the necessary commands, while Miggs dived down into the cabin. He came up again looking even graver than when he left the deck.
Mac suddenly sat down on the stool with his head in his hands. "The Boy hasn't caught on," said the Colonel presently, "but he said something this morning to show he was wondering about the change that's come over you." "That I don't split wood all day, I suppose, when we've got enough for a month. Potts doesn't either. Why don't you go for Potts?" "As the Boy said, I don't care about Potts.
Word Of The Day