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Updated: July 16, 2025
An heirloom, I presume, from your paternal grandfather? It looks nice now." "Oh, Lord! oh! Lord!" cried Tant Sannie, laughing and holding her sides; "how the child looks as though he thought the mud would never wash off. Oh, Lord, I shall die! You, Bonaparte, are the funniest man I ever saw." Bonaparte Blenkins was now carefully inspecting the volume he had picked up.
He listened as they grew fainter and fainter, and at last died away altogether, and from that night the footstep of Bonaparte Blenkins was heard no more at the old farm. END Of PART I. "And it was all play, and no one could tell what it had lived and worked for. A striving, and a striving, and an ending in nothing." Waldo lay on his stomach on the sand.
The nurse, sir she was the same who attended when the Duke of Sutherland was born brought me to my mother. 'There is only one name for this child, she said: 'he has the nose of his great kinsman; and so Bonaparte Blenkins became my name Bonaparte Blenkins. Yes, sir," said Bonaparte, "there is a stream on my maternal side that connects me with a stream on his maternal side."
Bonaparte Blenkins went to pick up the volume, now loosened from its cover, while Tant Sannie pushed the stumps of wood further into the oven. Bonaparte came close to her, tapped the book knowingly, nodded, and looked at the fire. Tant Sannie comprehended, and, taking the volume from his hand, threw it into the back of the oven.
At that instant her niece entered the room below, closely followed by Bonaparte, with his head on one side, smiling mawkishly. Had Tant Sannie spoken at that moment the life of Bonaparte Blenkins would have run a wholly different course; as it was, she remained silent, and neither noticed the open trap-door above their heads.
I will go after him!" cried the Boer-woman, as Bonaparte Blenkins wildly fled into the fields. Late in the evening of the same day Waldo knelt on the floor of his cabin. He bathed the foot of his dog which had been pierced by a thorn. The bruises on his own back had had five days to heal in, and, except a little stiffness in his movements, there was nothing remarkable about the boy.
He, Bonaparte Blenkins, had eyes which were very far-seeing. He looked at the pot. It was rather a small pot to have taken three-quarters of an hour in the filling. He looked at the face. It was flushed. And yet, Tant Sannie kept no wine he had not been drinking; his eyes were wide open and bright he had not been sleeping; there was no girl up there he had not been making love.
The thing happened on the afternoon of the day on which I returned from the "rush" to Rotunda Creek. Blenkins was working on the high terrace known as Gardiner's Point. A large quartzite boulder it was afterwards found to measure nearly thirty tons stood embedded in the face of the claim, about three feet above bedrock. This boulder had been stripped on one side.
Then there was a tap at the door. In an instant Doss looked wide awake, and winked the tears out from between his little lids. "Come in," said Waldo, intent on his work; and slowly and cautiously the door opened. "Good evening, Waldo, my boy," said Bonaparte Blenkins in a mild voice, not venturing more than his nose within the door. "How are you this evening?"
Bonaparte Blenkins waited to observe what effect his story had made. Then he took out a dirty white handkerchief and stroked his forehead, and more especially his eyes. "It always affects me to relate that adventure," he remarked, returning the handkerchief to his pocket. "Ingratitude base, vile ingratitude is recalled by it!
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