United States or São Tomé and Príncipe ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Her voice rose to a kind of cry. "His feyther died ov it, and his grandfeyther afore that. His grandfeyther wor found dead i the roadside, after they'd made him blind-drunk at owd Morse's public-house, where the butty wor reckonin with im an his mates. But he'd never ha gone near the drink if they'd hadn't druv him to't, for he wasn't inclined that way.
"By spades! are you as bad as thet?... Let's see. It's the twenty-third of March." "March! Well, I'm beat. I've lost my reckonin' an' a lot more, maybe." "Thar!" declared John, slapping the mustang. "You can jest hang up here till my next trip. Milt, how 're your hosses?" "Wintered fine." "Wal, thet's good. We'll need two big, strong hosses right off." "What for?" queried Dale, sharply.
Two hours later he was riding down the declivity toward Chavis' shack, in the basin. He had ridden first to the outfit, and had talked with Owen. And his appearance had been such that when he left the foreman the latter sought out Blair. "If I don't miss my reckonin', Masten's goin' to get his'n today." Randerson rode, straight as Patches could carry him, to the door of Chavis' shack.
For the first time in many days the sails were hoisted, and, released from the hard work, the men sat back to enjoy the rest, while a fair breeze sent them up the lake. "'Tis fine t' have a spell from th' trackin'," remarked Ed as he lighted his pipe. "Aye, 'tis that," assented Dick, "an' we been makin' rare good time wi' this bad weather. We're three days ahead o' my reckonin'."
"As we're reckonin' to adopt her," said Mrs. Hoover gravely, "you'll give her ours." "But I can't call her 'Miss Hoover," suggested the master; "what's her first name?" "We was thinkin' o' 'Serafina Ann," said Mrs. Hoover with more gravity. "But what is her name?" persisted the master. "Well," returned Mrs.
Purcel's family," said he, but not in hearing of the females, "is the last family that I ought to protect this night. They have shot my twin brother, the man that went by the name of Buck English. He is now gone to his reckonin' and may God forgive him!
I heard some one shoot about a million times, an' shore thought the cougar was done for. Wallace went plungin' down the slope an' I followed. I couldn't keep up with him he shore takes long steps an' I lost him. I'm reckonin' he went over the second wall. Then I made tracks for the top.
"That makes, accordin' to my reckonin', anywheres from thirty to thirty-six beaver. Bye and bye, when the time comes, I'll kinder thin 'em out a bit, that's all!"
She had already turned to get her own shawl. "Yes, hit's leetle Lou. She air powerful sick, an' I wants fer ye ter stay ter-night with her an' grandpap, ef yo' will. Thar haint nothing ter do but stay with them." "In course I'll do hit fer ye, Smiles," was the ready answer, and her lank, slouching husband nodded a silent assent, as she turned to him. "But what air yo' reckonin' ter do?
"I've been doin' some hot reckonin' for th' last two hours an' this is th' way it looks to me: they drives th' cows up on this skillet for a ways, then turns east an' hits th' trail for home an' water. They can get around th' ca on near Thatcher's Lake by a swing of th' north. I tell yu that's th' only way out'n this. Who could tell where they turned with th' wind raisin' th' deuce with the trail?
Word Of The Day