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Updated: June 2, 2025
"You sit still or I'll punch your thick head," said the first speaker coldly. "What I dislike about you, Cowan, is that you are never able to forget that you're a mucker. I wish you'd try," he continued wearily, "it's so monotonous." Cowan was silent an instant; then laughed uncertainly. "I suppose you fancy you're a wit, Baker," he said, "but I think you're mighty tiresome."
Housed from his reverie, Fanwell Livingston glanced up, and, after nodding to Cowan and Neil, turned in at the gate. "I suppose you want congratulations," said Cowan. "Well, you can have mine." "And mine," added Neil. "And Gale here will extend his as soon as he's properly introduced. Mr. Gale Mr. Livingston." "Victory Defeat," added Cowan with a grin.
A faithful sentinel should be placed at every gate, a watchman on every wall, and the first approach of a cowan and eavesdropper be promptly met and resisted." Teachings like this are now so common that every American Mason who has studied the symbolism of his Order believes, with Carlyle, that "there is but one temple in the world, and that is the body of man."
Private Cowan nestled his cheek against the earthen side of his little slit trench and tried to remember what she had worn that last night in Newbern. Something glistening, warm in colour, like ripe fruit; and a rusty braid bound her head. She had watched, doubtfully, to see if people were not impatient at her talk. A rattlepate, old Sharon called her.
He was very serious, and spoke as if he had some idea of sudden and speedy death. He mentioned that he had named Cadell, Cowan, young Hughes, and his brother to be his trustees with myself. He has settled to go to the country, poor fellow, to Timpendean, as I think. We dined at Skene's, where we met Mr. and Mrs. George Forbes, Colonel and Mrs. Blair, George Bell, etc. The party was a pleasant one.
That's why I hesitate to make an example of him. He would think that I was satisfying a grudge. Besides, he has some sort of a drag with someone. Cowan thinks he is a great flyer. He is, too. Knows more about both the technical and practical side of the game than any of the others. That's what's wrong with him.
"They won't give us no peace till we take all their money away from 'em." "Open game," prompted Cowan, glancing meaningly at Elkins, who stood by idly looking on, and without showing much interest in the scene. "Shore! Everybody can come in what wants to," replied Lucas, heartily, leading the others to the table.
With his help and yours, and with the kind assistance of one or two fellows I know here, I dare say I can pull out on top. Anyhow, there's no harm in trying." "I think you'll win," said Cowan. "This chump Livingston that Foster is booming is a regular milksop; does nothing but grind, so they say; came out of St. Mathias with all kinds of silly prizes and such.
Then he appeared to forget the announcement, and pressed again on the self-starter, listening above its shrill song for the deeper rumble of the engine. This did not ensue, and he shifted his heel, turning a plaintive eye upon the young man. "She don't seem to excite," he said. "I've tried and tried, and I can't excite her." It was an old, old story to Wilbur Cowan.
Wilbur Cowan partook of this pessimism about the craft, and wondered if his father had heard the news. If it had ceased to be important that a bright boy should set up a column of long primer, leaded, in a day, he might as well learn some other loose trade in which they couldn't invent a machine to take the bread out of your mouth.
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