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Tilting his chair back until it seemed physically impossible that he could maintain his balance, he went on between puffs of his cigar: "You see, m'm, I'm not the kind of man that's satisfied to go on working all his life for only just enough to keep body and soul together.
Randall, "any number of invitations, and why shouldn't she? Your mother is very pleasant, to be sure." She nodded wisely to the woman beside her, Miss Skillern. Miss Skillern was short and broad and, in the evening, always wore curled ostrich plumes on tightly filled gray puffs. She reminded Linda of a wadded chair. Mrs.
Merton Gill beyond a doubt preferred Western stuff, some heart-gripping tale of the open spaces, or perhaps of the frozen north, where he could be the hard-riding, straight-shooting, two-fisted wonder-man, and not have to smoke so many cigarettes only one now and then, which he would roll himself and toss away after a few puffs. Still, he had shown above the mob of extra people, he thought.
It also procures for him respect from the others, and no one ventures lightly to attack him. Such boys here again nature stands right out much as it is with the animals, before the biggest and strongest all the rest must crouch." Fresh, vigorous puffs from the meerschaum accompanied these words.
In a little while the firing became general, and our men struck out extending their formation as they neared the edge of the coulee, from which puffs of smoke were already curling up. Twenty of Dumont's men, with Winchesters, fired over a natural shelf or parapet protected by big boulders.
George bought his Mary a piece of chocolate from the automatic machine; she was a forlorn picture as with tiny nibbles she ate it, tears in her pretty eyes. In the restaurant George bought himself a huge cigar. This man was a desperate spectacle as with huge puffs he smoked, hands deep in pockets, legs thrust straight, brows horribly knitted. They had no words. The train came in.
The whole valley was hidden in clouds of smoke and dust, and flashes of fire and puffs of smoke flew up from the ground on all sides. Then evening came and, bit by bit, it grew more quiet as one battery after the other ceased firing. The shrill whistle of an engine came from the mountain-pass. It was three o'clock in the morning.
Lamberti looked through the letter carelessly, dropped it on the table, and sucked hard at his cigar. "What did you expect?" he asked, between two puffs. "For the present you are the apple of her eye. She will handle you as tenderly as a new-laid egg, until she gets what she wants!" Lamberti's similes lacked sequence, but not character.
At last Sandy appeared to have collected his thoughts, and after a few vigorous puffs to get his pipe drawing well began his story. "What I'm goin' to tell yuh about," he said, "happened before I became a cattle puncher. Then I was workin' in the lumber business up in the Michigan woods fer Dodd & Robertson, one o' the biggest concerns in the line.
The firing now became miscellaneous. No one paid any attention to anyone else. Each discovered what I could have told them, that even the human figure at five hundred yards is a small mark for a strange rifle. The constant correction of elevation, however, brought the puffs of dust always closer, and I could not but realise that the doctrine of chances must bring home some of the bullets.
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