United States or Kazakhstan ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Rondeau instantly started for home, where he was greeted by Aunt Dilsey with a torrent of abuse, that good lady rating him soundly for being gone too long. "Warn’t he ’shamed to be foolin’ away his time? ’Twan’t his time nuther, ’twas marster’s time. Was that ar fulfillin’ of Scripter, which says, ’we must be all eye sarvants,’ which means ye must all keep clus where yer marsters can see you?"
And without further ado, Bryce strode to meet his man. "Are you Jules Rondeau?" he demanded as he came up to the woods-boss. The latter nodded. "I'm Bryce Cardigan," his interrogator announced, "and I'm here to thrash you for chopping that big redwood tree over in that little valley where my mother is buried." "Oh!" Rondeau smiled. "Wiz pleasure, M'sieur."
However, it's not too late yet. Poundstone is coming over to dinner Thursday night, and I'll wring the swine dry before he leaves the house. And as for those rails Cardigan managed to hornswoggle me out of " He seized the telephone and fairly shouted to his exchange operator to get his woods-foreman Jules Rondeau on the line. "That you, Rondeau?" he shouted when the big French Canadian responded.
While the crew of the big locomotive on the crossing busied themselves getting up steam, Sexton and Jules Rondeau toiled at the loading of the discarded boiler and heavy castings aboard two flat-cars.
The second composition which we shall consider will show how dangerous it is to dogmatise on the strength of internal evidence. Op. 16, a lightsome Rondeau with a dramatic Introduction, is, like the Bolero, not without its beauties; but in spite of greater individuality, ranks, like it, low among the master's works, being patchy, unequal, and little poetical.
His blows had not, apparently, had the slightest effect on the woods-boss. Crouched low and with his arms wrapped around his head, Rondeau still came on unfalteringly, and Bryce was forced to give way before him; to save his hands, he avoided the risk of battering Rondeau's hard head and sinewy arms.
"No, sir; Miss Mabel is bad enough, but she can’t hold a candle to this one," answered Rondeau. "You don’t mean Miss July," shrieked rather than asked Aunt Dilsey. "I don’t mean nobody else, mother Dilsey," said Rondeau. Up flew Aunt Dilsey’s hands in amazement, and up rolled her eyes in dismay.
Seeing him running away, the Laguna Grande woods-men took heart and hope and pursued him. Straight for the loading donkey at the log- landing Bryce ran. Beside the donkey stood a neat tier of firewood; in the chopping block, where the donkey-fireman had driven it prior to abandoning his post to view the contest between Bryce and Jules Rondeau, was a double-bitted axe.
"Why, yes," answered Rondeau, "that’s what I’m going to tell. Right in the middle of the fuss I heard something moving softly down the stairs, and I saw a thing all as white as snow. Her hair, which was about the color of Leffie’s neck—real handsome—was hanging in long curls down her back. I thought it was an angel, and kinder touched her as she passed, to see if she had wings.
There is this to be said even for the pride his grandfather had taught him, that it had always hald him above low indulgences; and though he had dallied with kings, queens, and knaves through all the mazes of Faro, Rondeau, and Craps, he had done it loftily; but now he maintained a peaceful estrangement from all. Evariste and Jean, themselves, found him only by seeking.
Word Of The Day