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Updated: June 4, 2025
If we don't get back for six weeks, then I'll be eighteen. I made up my mind now." Mr. Conne laughed approvingly and Tom gazed, with a kind of fascination, across the pleasant, undulating country. "I could even hike it," he repeated; "it seems funny to be so near."
But the principle of the Shepherd and the Stone is not something hitherto unheard of which is only to conne into existence in the future.
"I never thought I'd see you here," said Tom, his face lighting up to an unusual degree. "I'm a dispatch-rider now. I just rode from Cantigny. "A spy, kind of, eh?" "And I hope the Texas Pioneer didn't land yet, that's one sure thing." "It's one sure thing that she'll dock in about fifteen minutes, Tommy," said Mr. Conne rising. "Come inside and deliver your message.
"Did you let him?" Tom asked. "I certainly did not! With all our stuff down there? When he saw I intended to stay down as long as he did, he went right up. Do you think he wanted to steal some of our membership buttons?" Tom shrugged his shoulders thoughtfully. He was glad the next day was Saturday. Tom found Mr. Conne poring over a scrapbook filled with cards containing finger-prints.
Conne considered them, he put the matter temporarily aside in the interest of Tom's proposed job. "I just happened to think of you," he said, as he took his hat and coat, "when I was talking with the steward of the Montauk. He was saying they were short-handed. Come along, now, and we'll go and see about it." Mr.
Tom ventured to ask, feeling somewhat squelched. Mr. Conne screwed up his mouth with a dubious look. "Search everybody on board, two or three thousand, quiz a few, that's about all. It'll take a long time and probably reveal nothing. Family resemblances are all right when you know both members, Tommy, but out in the big world Well, let's look this over again," he added, taking up the letter.
He remembered a painting which he had seen a long time ago in Montreal. It was L'Esprit de la Solitude The Spirit of the Wild painted by Conne, the picturesque French-Canadian friend of Lord Strathcona and Mount Royal, and a genius of the far backwoods who had drawn his inspiration from the heart of the wilderness itself.
Conne, and almost before Tom realized what had happened, he was standing blinking at one of the other Secret Service men who was handing him back his glasses. "All right, my boy," said Mr. Conne pleasantly, which seemed to wipe out any indignity the young man might have felt. Tom looked up the gangplank as they surged down, holding the rail to steady them on the steep incline.
It was the question uppermost in Tom's mind, but he could not bring himself to ask it until his visitor was about to leave. "Why, that's hard to say, Tommy," Mr. Conne answered kindly but cautiously; then after a moment's silence he added, "I'll strain a point and tell you something because well, because you're entitled to know. But you must keep it very quiet.
"Not exactly," said Tom, with his usual candor; "but it seems as if nothing can happen at all, now that we're here. It seems different, thinking up things when you're riding along the road kind of." "Uh huh." Presently the soldiers began coming down the gangplank. "You watch for resemblances and I'll do the rest," said Mr. Conne in a low tone. "Give yourself the benefit of every doubt.
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