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Updated: May 24, 2025
"The whole infernal Southern Confederacy's out there," said one boy, who was holding his shattered right hand in his left, with his thumb pressed hard on the artery, to stanch the blood, "in three lines-of-battle, stretching from daybreak to sunset. The boys have been standing them off bully, though, but I don't know how long they can keep it up.
Outwardly he had changed, not subtly, it is true, from a sullen, threatening bully into a hearty, smiling, sympathetic comrade who laid himself out to be obliging. Even Percival was puzzled, if not deceived, by this surprising transformation. It was Olga Obosky who discovered and exposed the plot. A young Spaniard had fallen hopelessly, madly in love with her.
So these two frauds said they'd go and fetch it up, and have everything square and above-board; and told me to come with a candle. We shut the cellar door behind us, and when they found the bag they spilt it out on the floor, and it was a lovely sight, all them yaller-boys. My, the way the king's eyes did shine! He slaps the duke on the shoulder and says: "Oh, THIS ain't bully nor noth'n!
But communing the while rapidly within herself, she hesitated, until an unexpected turn of thought harshly put it before her that she was being made a fool of that she had a perfect right to look through her books and poetry, and that Hender's sneers were no more than she deserved for allowing a mother-in-law to bully her.
The bully started back in surprise and consternation, which was not diminished when Joe followed his friend's example and stood at his side. "What are you butting in for?" Buck snapped, as soon as he recovered his breath. "Because I choose to," answered Bob. "Because I won't stand by and see you hit a fellow half your size.
That night I took the two o'clock train out of town and had my first experience of sleeping in two beds in two towns in one night but this, in those days, was fun for me. "Do you know, I had a bully good week? I was out early that season, ahead of the bunch. By Saturday afternoon I had worked as far west as Wymore. I went up to see a man there on Saturday afternoon.
Panting, Bob stood over him, waiting for Looker to get to his feet again, but when after a few seconds the bully opened his eyes, there was no sign of fight left in them. "Get up, you big blowhard!" panted Bob. "I'm not through with you yet." But Buck Looker was through, abjectly and entirely through. "Have a heart, Bob," he whined. "I don't want to fight any more.
Then the other winked one eye and straightway trolled forth in a merry voice: "I sit upon the stile, And I sing a little while As I wait for my own true dear, O, For the sun is shining bright, And the leaves are dancing light, And the little fowl sings she is near, O. "And so it is with me, bully boy, saving that my doxy cometh not."
But you're a dear in spite of it. I won't bully you." We made the last part of the crossing on the highway of the sunset. The propeller lashed through crimson and fiery copper, and the white wake tossed on to the highway turned to rose and gold and its edges to purple. I had left her again and I called to her to look at this wonder of the sky and sea; but she shook her head at me.
Certainly, if I could help it, I would never marry a wife who wrote. The practice of letters is miserably harassing to the mind; and after an hour or two's work, all the more human portion of the author is extinct; he will bully, backbite, and speak daggers. Music, I hear, is not much better.
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