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"Oh, I think so," he said. "The Farabad men are strong, but our fellows are hard to beat. It won't be a walkover for either side." "Where will the match be played?" she asked, nervously afraid of letting the subject drop lest Lord Ronald should claim her attention. "Here," said Major Fletcher. "It was originally to have been at Farabad, but there was some difficulty about the ground.

I came over hoping to find you'd made a bully good start, because we Belleville boys want your strongest team to face us a week from next Saturday. We expect to win the game, that goes without saying, but none of us will be satisfied to have a regular walkover of it." "Make your mind easy on that score, O. K.," snapped Thad, aggressively.

True, we did not know all this, but if any man on that ground besides Wood and Howard expected a "walkover" his must have been a singularly hopeful disposition. As topographical engineer it had been my duty to make a hasty examination of the ground in front.

The match with Belleville proved a walkover for Scranton, much to the delight of all the local rooters, and the utter humiliation of the boys from the neighboring town. Tyree was at his very best, which meant that few among the Belleville batsmen could touch his slants and drops and speedy balls.

Several workmen, in white blouses, went along the track, placing litters beside the obstacles where falls occurred most frequently. "Do you think the gatekeeper will allow us to enter at this hour?" Zibeline asked. "I hope not!" Henri replied. "Well, then, I shall enter without his permission! You are free to declare me the winner. I shall be left to make a walkover, I see!"

I'd like to see all the shoemakers get together and refuse to make any more shoes till people promised to write reviews about them, like all these book-reviews. Then just as soon as people's shoes began to wear out they'd come right around, and you'd read about the new masterpieces of Mr. Regal and Mr. Walkover and Mr. Stetson." "Yes! I can imagine it.

"Oh, I don't know," said John Byrnes, argumentatively, "them Japs haven't got any walkover. You wait till Kuropatkin gets a good whack at 'em and they won't be knee-high to a puddle-ducksky." Since the bar has been blessed by the clergy, and cocktails open the dinners of the elect, one may speak of the saloon.

Each side realized that the battle was for blood, and that it had in the other a worthy foeman. There would be no walkover for anybody that day. Floundering and slipping in the mud, the Blues steadily pounded their way down to the "Maroon's" goal. Morley made a successful dash around left end, netting twenty yards.