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"I hear," said the doctor, after the pause had continued some time, addressing his sister-in-law, "there is likely to be an election in Shellport before long; Sir Abraham is retiring." "Indeed, you surprise me," said Miss Stringer. "It is unexpected," said the doctor, "but it is thought there will be a sharp contest for the seat."

"McCall is done.... Myers, you go to left an' for Lord's sake play ball!" Stringer and Bogart hurried to Mac and, lifting him up and supporting him between them with his arms around their shoulders, they led him off amid cheers from the stands. Mac was white with pain. "Naw, I won't go off the field. Leave me on the bench," he said. "Fight 'em now. It's our game. Never mind a couple of runs."

To this framework was spiked, on the inside, a close sheathing of plank. Heavy timber braces, the outer ends of which were let into mud-sills set in trenches dug thirty feet outside the dam, were sunk into the stringer, and the work of filling in with earth on the inside was begun.

"Me," cried Jones, "I'm Victor Jones of Philadelphia. I'm the partner of a skunk by name of Stringer. I'm the victim of a British government that doesn't know the difference between tin plate and Harveyised steel. I'm a man on the rocks." The flood gates of his wrath were opened and everything came out, including the fact of his own desperate position.

I've a carriage outside. It won't take us five minutes to get down to the wharf." To the wharf we drove. Some forty sad wretches, amid their mats, blankets, and luggage of various sorts, were squatting on the stringer piece. The Noeau had just arrived and was making fast to a lighter that lay between her and the wharf. A Mr.

Forty yards from the mined stringer he met Molly riding back with a scared face. "What is it?" she cried to him. "I heard shots! Oh, what is it?" "Go back! Go back!" he bawled. "I only cut that fuse for three minutes." Molly wheeled the horse and fled. Racey ran to where a windfall lay near the edge of the cleft and some forty yards from the stringer.

I dare not post this here you know what village postmasters are, so I am taking it into Colchester, where Stringer will include it with his own report which goes by hand. Yours faithfully, SOPHIA HEFFNER. I was stunned at first as I read this letter, and then a kind of cold, concentrated rage came over me. So this woman was a German and a spy!

Ashwell's hit crossed sharply where a moment before the shortstop had been standing. With gigantic strides Rube rounded the corner and scored. McCall flitted through second, and diving into third with a cloud of dust, got the umpire's decision. When Stringer hurried up with Mac on third and Ash on first the whole field seemed racked in a deafening storm. Again it subsided quickly.

"You are always telling me to keep ahead of the other boys, and I can't even get up to some of them," whined Melville plaintively. "What do you mean?" asked the mother. "Ben Stringer is always a crowing over me. Every time I tell anything big he jumps in and tells what he's seen, and that knocks me out. He has seen a whole lots of lynchings. His papa takes him.

A fresh head on yonder stele? Lord, that a man should carry four trades under one hat, and be bowyer, fletcher, stringer and headmaker! Four men's work for old Bartholomew and one man's pay!" "Nay, say no more about that," growled an old wizened bowman, with a brown-parchment skin and little beady eyes. "It is better in these days to mend a bow than to bend one.