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In summer it's different, an' then the woods are like home." "Well," said her grandmother, seeing that the girl was bent upon her purpose, "if ye're skeered for old 'Spotty, ye'd better be a little mite skeered for yerself, Child! Take along the gun. Mebbe ye might see a chipmunk a-bitin' the old cow jest awful!"
In the contentment of these thoughts she grew younger and prettier, began to look as she did at twenty. And Donald, gazing scrutinizingly in her face one day, seeking, as he was always doing, for stray glimpses of resemblance to Elspie, saw this change, and impulsively told her of it. "But ye're growin' young, Katie d'ye know it? young and bonny, my girl."
If ye're comin' out bring along yer gat. Hey, Looey, got yer gun on? Some o' these other guys might git gay. They're comin' now." True enough, the Peruvian gang was jumping from its hut. With another glance at the prostrate Francisco to make sure he was unconscious, Tim whirled to meet them, fist on gun. "Halt!" he roared. "First guy passin' this corner post gits shot. Back up!"
Mr Graham that's the schoolmaister has a gran' libbrary, but it's maist Laitin an' Greek, an' though I like the Laitin weel, it's no what I wad read i' the face o' the sea. When ye're in dreid o' wantin' a dictionar', that spiles a'." "Can you read Latin then?" "Ay: what for no, my leddy?
"For all ye are sic a fine young man, Mr. Johnson, I'm doubtin' ye're no deeplomat. And Stan will be knowin' that same. Here is what ye shall do: you shall go to him and say that you saw an old man sitting by his leelane, handfast to the chimney neuk; and that you are thinking I will be needin' a friendly face, and that you think ill of him for that same stiff neck of his.
"Be the powers but ye're right. That's 'nough to stay our stomach, as me sick aunt remarked after swallowing her twenty-third dumpling." At the moment the party walked in among the rocks the smoldering embers of the camp-fire were plainly seen.
But choose wisely, man, and dinna throw them away. I hae my fears that ye're no without a bee in your bonnet, Brockburn." Incensed by this insinuation, the Laird defended his own sagacity at some length, and retorted on his companion with doubts of the power of the Daoiné Shi to grant wishes. "The proof of the pudding's in the eating o't," said the Man of Peace.
I recalled a scarred old veteran of the plains, who had talked to me in true Western bluntness: "Say, young feller, I heerd yer couldn't git acrost the Canyon fer the deep snow on the north rim. Wal, ye're lucky. Now, yer hit the trail fer New York, an' keep goin'! Don't ever tackle the desert, 'specially with them Mormons. They've got water on the brain, wusser 'n religion.
The little man raised the stick again and threw it into the farthest corner of the room. It fell with a rattle on the floor, and M'Adam turned away. "Ye're the pitifulest son iver a man had," he cried brokenly. "Gin a man's son dinna haud to him, wha can he expect to? no one.
"The auld sudna lie upo' the tap o' the yoong, Cosmo, my son." "Father, I wad willin'ly be a bed to ye to lie upo', gien that wad ease ye; but I'm thinkin' we baith may lie saft upo' the wull o' the great Father, e'en whan that's hardest." "True as trowth!" returned the laird. " But ye're luikin' some tired-like, Cosmo!" "I AM some tired, an' unco dry. I wad fain hae a drink o' milk."
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