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"Nor I nuther," agreed Elias Sweetland, "tho' to be sure, I've a-kept my eye 'pon en, an' the wonders he accomplishes in an old pair o' Tresidder's high-lows must be seen to be believed. But that's no call for Ruby's dancin' wi' he a'most so much as wi' her proper man." "The gel's takin' her fling afore wedlock. I heard Sarah Ann Nanjulian, just now, sayin' she ought to be clawed."
Zeb's gaze, amid the turmoil of sound, hovered around one such cloak, rested on a slim back resolutely turned to him, and a jealous bonnet, wandered to the bald scalp of Farmer Tresidder beside it, returned to Calvin Qke's sawing elbow and the long neck of Elias Sweetland bulging with the fortissimo of "O ye winds of God," then fluttered back to the red cloak.
"I heard tell of a man once," said Uncle Issy, "that committed murder upon another for love; but, save my life, I can't think 'pon his name, nor where 't befell." "What an old store-house 'tis!" ejaculated Elias Sweetland, bending a contemplative gaze on Uncle Issy. "Mark her pale face, naybours," put in a woman; "an' Tresidder, he looks like a man that's neither got nor lost." "Trew, trew."
North San Juan has the finest hydraulic claims, and Sweetland the largest tail-sluices. The Eureka Lake Ditch Company has more ditching and water than any other company in the state. Their main ditch is seventy-five miles long, and there are one hundred and ninety miles of branches, making a total of two hundred and sixty-five miles, which have cost nine hundred thousand dollars.
Young Zeb followed, and Elias Sweetland, both similarly laden. Less than half-way down the rock plunged abruptly, cutting off farther descent. Jim Lewarne, in a cloud of foam, stood up, slipped the coil over his head, and unwound it, glancing to right and left.
"You'd better ask that o' Young Zeb, mister," said Prudy. "Why?" "You owe your life to'n, I hear." "When next you see him you can put two questions. Ask him in the first place if he saved it at my request." "Tut-tut. A man likes to live, whether he axes for it or no," grunted Elias Sweetland. "And what the devil do you know about it?" demanded the stranger. "I reckon I know what a man's like."
"An' 'tis a delicate matter to cuss the singers when the musicianers be twice as bad." "I'd a very present sense of being a bar or more behind the fair that I can honestly vow," put in Elias Sweetland, bending across from the left. Now Elias was a bachelor, and had blown the serpent from his youth up. He was a bald, thin man, with a high leathern stock, and shoulders that sloped remarkably.
"You're real kind, I'm sure," responded Mrs. Cullom, replying to the other's welcome and remarks seriatim; "I guess, though, I don't look much like Cynthy Sweetland, if I do feel twenty years younger 'n I did a while ago; an' I have ben cryin', I allow, but not fer sorro', Polly Harum," she exclaimed, giving the other her maiden name. "Your brother Dave comes putty nigh to bein' an angel!"
"Do you happen to remember if any other letter like this was received at the office?" Here he displayed the envelope of Carl's letter. "Yes; one was received, addressed to the name of the one who deposited the first letters Leonard Craig." "Thank you, Mr. Sweetland. Your information has cleared up a mystery. Be kind enough not to mention the matter." "I will bear your request in mind." Mr.
Therefore he resolved to have it out, and sturdily entered the shop of John Sweetland, the village blacksmith, and there paid his sixpence. Sweetland extracted the teeth of the village, whenever they required it, in the simplest and most effectual way.
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