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I was sure life in Sagua la Grande would always suit me, and that I would never ask for better company than the comic-opera landlord and the jolly young priest and the yellow-skinned, fever- ridden schoolmaster with his throat wrapped in a great woollen shawl.
But these skippers were, though very plump, but very humble game for our yellow-skinned tormentor. He nearly drove the third lieutenant mad, and that by a series of such delicate persecutions, annoyances so artfully veiled, and administered in a manner so gentlemanly, that complaint on the part of the persecuted, instead of exciting commiseration, covered him with ridicule.
Then came a man beating a silver gong, and after him a dozen or more courtiers, all dressed in white robes like ourselves, followed by perhaps as many ladies, some of them young and good-looking, and for the most part of a fair type, with well-cut features, though others were rather yellow-skinned. They bowed to us and we to them.
The seconds are poor in flesh, or they may be, in the case of hens, unsightly from overfatness. They are packed in barrels and go to the cheapest trade. Those carcasses slightly bruised or torn in dressing also go in this class. Although a preference is generally stated for yellow-skinned poultry, the white-skinned birds, if equal in other points, are not underranked in this score.
The travelers we meet are on horseback most of them the yellow-skinned, hollow-cheeked folk, with lack-luster eyes, whom we note in the cabin doors, or dawdling about their daily routine. On nearing the Lick, two young horsewomen, out of the common, look interestedly at us, and I stop to inquire the way, although the village spire is peering above the tree-tops yonder.
"How should I know?" I replied. "That it wasn't proper for a gentleman in Queen Victolia's service to keep a fancee shop." "Murder! Look at that!" cried Smith. "Why, you yellow-skinned old Celestial, you were listening!"
Another minute and we're bein' shot up I don't know how many stories, and are steppin' out into the swellest set of office rooms I was ever in. A mahogany door opens, and in comes a wispy, yellow-skinned, dried-up little old party with eyes like a rat. Didn't look much like the pictures they print of him, but I guessed it was Gedney.
MacMaine didn't realize until he walked into the big room that what he was facing was not just a discussion with a high officer, but what amounted to a Court of Inquiry. The High Commander, a dome-headed, wrinkled, yellow-skinned, hard-eyed old Kerothi, was seated in the center of a long, high desk, flanked on either side by two lower-ranking generals who had the same deadly, hard look.
"That's a deal, my little yellow-skinned kid," the valet agreed in a tone of relief. "I'll show you where the things are kept." His new coadjutor bowed. "The telephone is ringing in the master's room," he observed. "You shall remain here, and I will answer it." "That goes, Jappy," the man acquiesced. "If it's a young lady take her name, but don't say that Mr. Van Teyl's about.
Now the sun set; the owl flew into a bush, and immediately an old, bent woman came out of it; she was yellow-skinned and thin, and had large red eyes and a hooked nose, which met her chin. She muttered to herself, caught the nightingale, and carried her away in her hand. Joringel could say nothing; he could not move from the spot, and the nightingale was gone.
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