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Updated: June 29, 2025
Some old hand like father, as had been assigned to a dairy settler, and spent all his mornings in the cowyard, had taken to the bush and tried his hand at sticking up people.
They turned and saw nothing but the high board fence of the cowyard, and, over by the barn, the Toyman, walking very swiftly towards his workshop. Now usually they would have wondered about that; tried to guess what he "would make," but this morning there were other, very grave, things taking their attention.
"That's the stuff, boys!" called Constable Stickler, who with a crowd of others was in the cowyard, removing such things as the boys pushed or tossed out, for they found many small objects they could save. "There isn't much more we can get out," called Bert in answer. "It's getting pretty hot here. Guess we'll have to leave, now."
The crying of the baby roused her, and she went to the cowyard and milked a cow to get milk for the hungry child, and there she was found by the soldiers. She was queer in her ways and thoughts afterwards, and, it was said, always remained 13 years old. She died in November last, aged 74.
In the doorway stood a negro child, barefooted and naked except for a single garment, eyeing them with serious, rolling eyes and, with all the strength of his two puny arms, proudly but solemnly tolling a small rusty cowbell he had found in the cowyard. "See if he's still there, will you?" said the man listlessly, as if knowing in advance what the answer would be.
Behind a cowyard of shattered stone pavement and cracked mud stood the farm itself, and around it extended the fields belonging thereto. They were six or seven in number, and embraced some five-and-fifty acres of land, mostly indifferent meadow.
Folks said they never heard such screams, and in the morning his legs and arms was found scattered all over the cowyard." I recognized in this tragic story, Marlowe's Faustus. I was much amused at Lucy's rendering. A few weeks afterwards she told me how the house where she lived was haunted. I asked her, "Who haunts it?" "Why!" she said, "it's a woman.
"Show the gen'lman to the cowyard, and giv' him cart number 1." "Isn't Grant here?" I said. "Perhaps Ulyssis wouldn't mind my turnin' in with him." "Do you know the Gin'ral?" inquired Mr. Spotswood. "Wall, no, not 'zacky; but he'll remember me. His brother-in-law's Aunt bought her rye meal of my uncle Levi all one winter. My uncle Levi's rye meal was "
A few were scratching in some straw in the cowyard. In the barn a horse stamped. From the farmhouse sounded the voice of a woman singing. Once the door of the farmhouse opened, and an appetizing odor floated out to tickle the nose of Reddy. Reddy looked sharply for signs of a dog. Not one could he see. If there was a dog, he must be either in the barn or in the house.
Behind a pile of old boards just outside the cowyard was a spot of red. In the top of a tall tree not far distant was a spot of black. The smoke from the chimney of the farmhouse floated skyward in a lazy way. Looking down on the Great World, jolly, round, bright Mr. Sun saw no more peaceful scene anywhere. By and by a fat hen walked over to the bars of the cowyard and hopped up on the lower bar.
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