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John Wilkes, Pettigrew, and myself were shoved down into a bit of a place below the stern cabin. Our legs were tied, as well as our arms. The trap was shut, and there we were in the dark. Of course I told Pettigrew that, though he had failed in his duty, and it had turned out badly, he wasn't to be blamed as if he had gone to sleep in sight of an enemy.
General Pettigrew was killed by Weber or one of his men. Until the battle was over I did not know what fearful losses had befallen the regiment. The total casualties were 33 killed and 56 wounded.
I shall own up to about five hundred dollars, but that isn't enough to dazzle people even in a small country village." "I am wiling to help you in any way you wish, Mr. Pettigrew." "Then I think we shall get some amusement out of it. I shall represent you as worth about a hundred thousand dollars." "I wish I were." "Very likely you will be some time if you go out to Montana with me."
Bailey, who has made a comfortable sum of money, wants to leave Montana and go East and I bought the hotel." "So that hereafter I shall board with you?" "Not exactly. I propose to put you in charge, and pay you a salary. I can oversee, and give you instructions. How will that suit you?" "So you think I am competent, Mr. Pettigrew?" "Yes, I think so. There is a good man cook, and two waiters.
"Oh yes," answered Rodney in an indifferent tone. "He must be rich to make so little account of fifty thousand dollars," thought the squire. "How long do you propose to stay in town, Mr. Pettigrew?" he asked. "I can't tell, sir, but I don't think I can spare more than three or four days." "May I hope that you and Mr. Ropes will take supper with me tomorrow evening?"
"Honestly," Pettigrew said, "I don't think she believed a word I told her." "If she had only been a man," Marriot sighed, "we could have got round her." "How?" asked Pettigrew. "Why, of course," said Marriot, "we could have sent her a tin of the Arcadia." The night of my last smoke drew near without any demonstration on my part or on that of my friends.
"Here now, you black imp! where is the horse?" demanded Roderick. "I done lost him, massa." "Lost him? You'll get a flogging for this, unless you bring good news. Did you see Jefferson Pettigrew?" "Yes, massa." "Did he give you any money?" "No; he gave me this letter." Roderick snatched it from his hand, and showed it to John. "It seems satisfactory," he said. "Now how did you lose the horse?"
James Gilmour, of Mongolia, the son of James Gilmour and Elizabeth Pettigrew his wife, was born at Cathkin on Monday, June 12, 1843. He was the third in a family of six sons, all but one of whom grew up to manhood. His father was in very comfortable circumstances, and consequently James Gilmour never had the struggle with poverty through which so many of his great countrymen have had to pass.
Pettigrew, I should like to go to New York and continue my education. You can look after my interest here, and I shall be willing to pay you anything you like for doing so." "There won't be any trouble about that, Rodney. I don't blame you for wanting to obtain an education. It isn't in my line. You can come out once a year, and see what progress we are making.
"I wonder," said Jefferson Pettigrew reflectively, "whether I shall be as hard and selfish if ever I get rich." "I don't believe you will, Jefferson. I don't believe you will. It doesn't run in the blood." "I hope not Uncle Cyrus. How long have you known the squire?" "Forty years, Jefferson. He is about ten years younger than I am. I was a young man when he was a boy."
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