United States or Åland ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Here," said Max, "don't you say nothing against that elevator. I call it pretty grand." She stood on the block, holding to one of the ropes, and looking alternately into the box and up to the narrow sky above them. "It's awfully high," she said. "Is that little stick up there all that's going to hold me up?" "That little stick is ten-by-twelve," Max replied. "It would hold more'n a dozen of you."
Living at Chenik was not agreeable, and we were willing to tackle Council City anyhow. We four, together with the more valuable of the supplies, occupied a ten-by-twelve tent, and the water proposition was worse than that at Nome. It meant a long walk up a hill past the Indian graves and along the high cliff descending steep to the water's edge, to a crevice in it which held a bank of frozen snow.
Buck Patterson had been expecting and awaiting in his little ten-by-twelve frame office that preliminary yell announcing that Calliope was feeling blue. When the signal came the city marshal rose to his feet and buckled on his guns. Two deputy sheriffs and three citizens who had proven the edible qualities of fire also stood up, ready to bandy with Calliope's leaden jocularities.
"Here," said Max, "don't you say nothing against that elevator. I call it pretty grand." She stood on the block, holding to one of the ropes, and looking alternately into the box and up to the narrow sky above them. "It's awfully high," she said. "Is that little stick up there all that's going to hold me up?" "That little stick is ten-by-twelve," Max replied. "It would hold more'n a dozen of you."
Also they had hauled loads of lumber from Dry Lake, wherewith to build their monotonously modest ten-by-twelve shacks with one door and one window apiece and a round hole in the roof big enough for a length of stove-pipe to thrust itself aggressively into the open and say by its smoke signal whether the owner was at home.
"Headquarters" were still on the original homestead, but they had grown since they had consisted of Kate's sheep wagon, Mormon Joe's tepee and a ten-by-twelve cook tent.
These had moved apart at one of the fence openings, and as Bannon looked, two men came through, stumbling and staggering under a long ten-by-twelve timber, which they were carrying on their shoulders. Bannon looked sharply; the first, a big, deep-chested man, bare-headed and in his shirt sleeves, was Peterson. Bannon started forward, when Max, who had been hurrying over to him, touched his arm.
They were sitting in the ten-by-twelve room that Peterson rented for a dollar a week. Bannon had the one chair, and was sitting tipped back against the washstand. Peterson sat on the bed. Bannon had thrown his overcoat over the foot of the bed, and had dropped his bag on the floor by the window. "Ain't it time to eat, Pete?" he said. "Yes, there's the bell."
He had purchased an expensive cook book, but as his larder seldom contained any of the ingredients it called for, he considered the price of it wasted. He had found that the recipes imparted by Tex McGonnigle, who had built his ten-by-twelve log cabin for him, were far more practical.
They were sitting in the ten-by-twelve room that Peterson rented for a dollar a week. Bannon had the one chair, and was sitting tipped back against the washstand. Peterson sat on the bed. Bannon had thrown his overcoat over the foot of the bed, and had dropped his bag on the floor by the window. "Ain't it time to eat, Pete?" he said. "Yes, there's the bell."
Word Of The Day