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"SACREDAM," the Frenchman said softly, flirting the quick blood from his bitten hand and gazing down on the little puppy choking and gasping in the snow. Leclere turned to John Hamlin, storekeeper of the Sixty Mile Post. "Dat fo' w'at Ah lak heem. 'Ow moch, eh, you, M'sieu'? 'Ow moch? Ah buy heem, now; Ah buy heem queek."
The lieutenant drew one card, and the betting began. Twice Rouleau, when it came to his turn, bet the limit, the others contenting themselves by "raising" one dollar. On the third round LeNoir, remarking, "Das leetle too queek for me," dropped out. Once more Rouleau raised the bet to the limit, when Mr. Sims refused, and left the game to him and the lieutenant.
I see heem run out queek and soft behind Monsieur Carson. He lift his hands. He strike Monsieur Carson with sometheeng, and Monsieur Carson he fall down and lie so still on ze grass. Zen ze ozzer man he run away." It did not take Frank long to go leaping down the stairs, and Hodge followed him closely. They tore open the door and rushed out.
"Keeb avay off, ur I vos goin' to bulverize you britty queek right avay soon!" "You pulverize, an' be hanged! All I want is to git holt of ye." Hans began to scramble out of the way. "Holt on! holt on!" he cried. "Dot don'd peen no fair to sdrike a man mit haluf uf his heat plown off!" "Your head's all right, only one side of it is plastered over with some yaller stuff.
As the girl advanced she smiled, and Chloe noted that her teeth were strong and even and white, and that dark eyes glowed softly from a face as light almost as her own. "Do not 'fraid," said the girl in a low, rich voice. "I'm not hurt you. I'm see you fire, I'm com' 'cross to fin'. Den, ver' queek you com' 'wake, an' I'm see you de one I'm want."
Sap-r-r-e! Not long before I pull on dat rope an' get bot on shore. Beeg feller hees all right. De ole boss hees lie white, white and still. I cry on my eye bad. 'Go get someting for dreenk, say beeg feller, 'queek. Sac-r-re! beeg fool messef! Bah! Good for noting! I fin' brandy, an' leele tam, tree-four minute, de ole boss bees sit up all right. Le Bon Dieu hees do good turn dat time, for sure.
As he spoke, Zeppa and his son, who had been walking behind Ebony, came up. The panting child only replied, "Rosco queek!" and ran before them to the fatal spot. Need we say that in a few moments the "born mis'nary" was drawn like a cork out of a bottle, and set down right end up?
She was thoughtful after that, and so busy puzzling her young head about the duty of loving those who hate us, and being kind to those who are disagreeable or unkind, that she went through the rest of the wood quite forgetful of her work. A soft "Queek, queek!" made her look up and listen.
In the dusk of the evening he drove up to Darley Champers' office in Wykerton. As he was hitching his team Rosie Gimpke rushed out of the side street and lunged across to the hitching post. "Oh, Doctor Carey, coom queek mit me," she exclaimed in a whisper. "Coom, I just got here from Mis' Aydelot's. They mak' me coom home to work at the Wyker House, ant a man get hurt bad in there.
Den he fire hees gun, poom! an' more as twenty prob'ly ten shot-buck heet me on the head of it!" Buckshot! "Them's the marble," thought Mr. Peaslee, "but there wasn't but one!" "Ah tol' you dey steeng lak bumbletybees. Ah t'ink me, dat weeked leetly boy goin' for shoot more as once prob'ly mebbe two, t'ree tam. Ah drop queek in de grass, an' Ah run run queek!
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