United States or Tokelau ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
But things are in a pitiful state, said Gudrun, what with the hay shortage, almost everyone is badly off, and not a single farmer with a scrap of hay to spare, except you, papa. Yes, I! answered Brandur. I, a poor, blind, decrepit old man! But what of you? Jon has enough hay, hasn't he? How is that? Doesn't he have enough? Yes, we do have enough for ourselves, admitted Gudrun.
Scrap and Lotty, their faces upturned to the sky, said very little and in whispers. Rose said nothing. Her face too was upturned. She was looking at the umbrella pine, which had been smitten into something glorious, silhouetted against stars. Every now and then Scrap's eyes lingered on Rose; so did Lotty's. For Rose was lovely.
There might be a chance there to pick up a bit of river news which would help you. I wonder whether old Moung San is up in Mandalay yet. He started up river with his hnau weeks back, and you know how they dawdle along, picking up every scrap of river gossip." "Moung San!" cried Buck, "old Moung, why, he's the very man whose hnau took the Professor up the river Chindwin, the last trip Mr.
And something of her feelings must have been plain to any but his infatuated ears. He laughed. It was a cruel laugh. "Sure," he cried. "It was a great scrap. We took nigh a hundred head of Sid Morton's cattle and burnt him out." "And the blood?" "Guess it must be his, or Luke Tedby's." His face suddenly darkened. "That mutton-headed gambler over on Suffering Creek did him up.
Hugh with a muttered oath thrust his hand into his breast, and drawing the bracelet forth, wrapped in a scrap of hay, was about to lay it on the table likewise, when his patron stopped his hand and bade him put it up again. 'You took that for yourself my excellent friend, he said, 'and may keep it. I am neither a thief nor a receiver. Don't show it to me.
"You've been very, very kind to him," answered Roy. "No; it wasn't any trouble, because we all took to him so. It was a pleasure to do for him." "But why didn't he let us know before where he was?" asked Roy. "Bless you, he only knew himself yesterday. He's had a hard tug of it, and not a scrap or a card could we find about him, only the letters R. B. P. P, on his linen."
There's not a word in the whole vocabulary of a white man that gets nearer than ten miles of describing it," he exclaimed. "And the neches, here, figger to scrap to hold it. Well, it certainly needs attractions we can't locate from here." Kars nodded agreement. "That's how I've felt all through," he said. "Now? Why, now I'm dead sure. This is where they murdered Jessie's father.
He stared down at her eagerly, hopefully, for a sign of regret at the ending of this strange companionship, much as a big Newfoundland might watch for a caress from a cherished but tyrannic hand, but not a scrap of regret was evidenced. She was as blithe as a cricket. Her only pang was for discovery.
How could he, Miss Jane, when there's no snow, and not even a scrap of ice?" "Pshaw!" said Miss Jane. "It ain't Santa Claus brings you things, snow or no snow. Only babies believe that. You're old enough to know better. It's your father and mother does it all." "Are you sure?" asked Rosemary. "Dead sure. Don't be a silly and cry, now, just because there ain't any Santa Claus, nor any fairies."
Presently, however, Pete came to earth, extended his paw, and delivered himself of an established truth: "Well, dang my hide, but it takes er 'ristercrat fer to glitter in a scrap!" They escorted him all the way to his eighty-thousand-dollar home. The ladies kissed him both of them and helped him to clamber weakly over his garden wall.
Word Of The Day