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"'That's all my eye, says he, seizing the garrone, while I mounted Naboclish, and rode him off deliberately." "Ha! ha! ha! That was neat, I grant you, Terry," said Lord Clonbrony. "But what a dolt of a born ignoramus must that sheriff's fellow have been, not to know Naboclish when he saw him!"
A door banged in the corridor, the sound of rushing water came from the bathroom at the end, someone across the way began to sing "Tipperary" joyously, and through the open window came the shrill voice of an early First Former: "Hi, Terry! Terry Brainard! Oh, Ter-ry!"
She did not at all resent her husband's laying the burden of comfort upon her. He had always left Terry to her. She looked at his young angry face. He was ramping up and down the little boudoir like an animal in a cage. He was adorably young and she loved him. What was she to say? "I'm not a child," Terry went on. "Things can't stand like this, as Father expects them to, apparently.
It was like speaking to a stone. "Gentlemen," said Terry, though his eyes never left the face of the sheriff, and it was obvious that he was making his speech to one pair of ears alone. "I have been living among you under the name of Colby Terence Colby. It seems an appropriate moment to say that this is not my name.
The driver had never been out there before, so he turned and asked Terry where he must stop. "Right in front of that house out there," and he pointed to the house which he and Fred had furnished for their home until a big house could be put up. Both Fred and Jack were on the lookout for them. Evelyn saw them waving their hats and she waved her parasol in return.
By that time the district had realized that Terry O'Ryan had surrendered to what they called "the laying on of hands" by Molly Mackinder. It was not certain, however, that the surrender was complete, because O'Ryan had been wounded before, and yet had not been taken captive altogether.
"Pass it across, Nora." "No, it is not for you, my lady, as it happens. It is for Nora. Here, Norrie, take it." Nora took it up. She was shivering now, and her hand could scarcely hold it. It was addressed to her, beyond doubt: "Miss O'Shanaghgan, Castle O'Shanaghgan," etc. "Read it at once, Nora," said her mother. "I have not yet had any letter to speak of from Terry myself.
Does this seem extravagant, impossible? Words of truth and soberness on such a subject surely might be expected from a commission comprising such men as Gens. Sherman, Harney, Augur, and Terry of the regular army of the United States.
Gazing out, with his back towards Terry, he put to her what he intended should be his final question. "You promised him last night then why did you hurry round to me this morning?" Her dress rustled and her breathing quickened. "Because " she commenced and failed. He did not turn his head. She tried again in a lower voice, "Because I want you to get my promise back."
When times got hard they had a handy knack of finding horses that nobody had lost, shearing sheep they did not own, and branding and selling other people's calves. When they stole stock, they moved them on through the mountains as quickly as possible, always having a brother or uncle, or a cousin Terry or Timothy or Martin or Patsy who had a holding "beyant."
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