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Updated: June 15, 2025
There was a moment of almost breathless silence, broken only by a faint moan from Wren's tortured lips and the childish whimpering of that other the half-crazed, terror-stricken soldier. "Elise," came the whisper, barely audible, as Carmody strove to lift his head, "she promised" but the head sank back on Blakely's knee.
"What worse can you say?" returned Carmody with a harsh laugh. "Of all expressions coined to damn a man with faint praise, there is only one more effective: 'He means well." Ethel was thoroughly angry now. She drew herself up, and her blue eyes darkened as she faced him. "That is not so!" she cried. "Bill is not bad at heart! And he does mean well!
She was as fit and hardy as a splendid boy, her cheeks round and ruddy, her eyes bright, her fine bare hands brown and strong, her sturdy ankles sturdier than ever in her heavy knitted woolen hose and her stout Scotch brogues. He had known and counted on her for almost twenty years and he had married Mildred Carmody. "Ethel," he said, suddenly, "in that book of mine I mean to have "
I told you it wouldn't do any good to come here." "I didn't expect to see them young fellers," growled the leathery-looking man. "But I'm a-goin' to git square with Abe Blower, jest wait an' see," he added, thickly; and then he and his companion started up the street and around the first corner. "The beasts!" murmured Mrs. Carmody, as she gazed after them.
I never really supposed I would, but so many of my loveliest dreams have come true all at once that perhaps this one will, too. Do you think it's possible?" "Diana Barry lives over at Orchard Slope and she's about your age. She's a very nice little girl, and perhaps she will be a playmate for you when she comes home. She's visiting her aunt over at Carmody just now.
And yet, as eight o'clock was noted and still no sight or sound of assailant came, Sergeant Carmody turned a wearied, aching eye from his loophole and muttered to the officer crouching close beside him: "I could wring the neck of the lot of those infernal cat crows, sir, but I'll thank God if we hear no worse sound this day."
As the early darkness of the North country settled about them the men plowed heavily to the bunk-house through a foot and a half of fresh-fallen snow and still it snowed. In a long-abandoned shack midway between Moncrossen's Blood River camp and Hilarity, Bill Carmody hugged close the rusty, broken stove.
At the first bellowed orders of the boss, Bill Carmody had leaped onto the heaving jam and, following in the wake of others, began picking his way to the opposite shore. New to the game, he had no definite idea of what was expected of him, so, with an eye upon those nearest him, he determined to follow their example.
As a matter of course, being a Carmody, he was to enter the bank. His official position was that of messenger. His salary, six dollars a week, his private allowance, one hundred. And thus he was dismissed. It cannot be chronicled that young Carmody was either surprised or disappointed at thus being assigned to a career.
"Can't you call in your party and make a quick dash down the lagoon?" inquired John Carmody, approaching, a rifle still gripped by one hand and a cartridge-belt thrown over one shoulder. "We can't travel fast in the lagoon, sir," Dave answered, "and Cosetta's men can run as fast along the shore, keeping up a fire that would be more deadly when we're crowded together aboard the launch.
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