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Updated: June 18, 2025
He had planned to go to the Massachusetts colony and offer his services to the Committee of Safety there if war really became imminent, though he would go, Enoch saw, in a much different spirit from Lot's. Lot was eager for a fight for the fight's sake; but French realized the root of the trouble and espoused the cause of the persecuted colonists from principle.
Then they moved between the fire and the two officers, blocking the view. "'Bout time ye woke up and listened to the birdies," Tim chaffed. "Fight's over, and we been hangin' round waitin' for ye to quit snorin' so's we could hear ourselves think. Lay still, now! Ye're all plastered up nice and comfy and don't preach to me no more about the girls.
A quarter of an hour afterwards he might have been seen returning. His eyes were positively snapping with vigour and excitement, for he loved a fight for a fight's sake. Ajax met him. "Professor," he said, "I don't want you to impart the knowledge of a lifetime to me, but do, please, tell us something. We are on edge with anxiety." The man of science melted.
"Ah," cried Serge, at last, "now I think we will start." "Yes, come on," cried Marcus. "But why did you say that?" he added, hastily. "Because the fight's begun, boy." "Where? How?" cried Marcus. "Look yonder towards that patch of grey rock which glitters in the sun. That's where our stout rear-guard is.
"Look here, boys! Thar goes Father Time! No, it's Rip Van Winkle!" "No, it's Santa Claus! Anyhow, he's going to fight!" "Look here, boys! here comes another cradle. Good Lord, he's just a toddler! He don't see a razor in his dreams yet! Quartermaster's out of nursing-bottles!" "Shet up! the way those children fight's a caution!" October drifted on, smooth as the Opequon.
The chances are all against the fight's having taken place or this Hade's having been arrested." "But if we're beaten on it " suggested the chief. "But I don't think that is possible. If there were any story to print, Dwyer would have had it here before now." The managing editor looked steadily down at the floor. "Very well," he said, slowly, "we won't wait any longer.
For he is one of those for whom, above all, "the fight's the thing." It would be difficult to find any single purpose running through the sketches which fill most of his books. His characteristic book is a medley of cosmopolitan "things seen" and comments grouped together under a title in which irony lurks. Take the volume called Charity, for example.
He shook himself, and then turned, facing his captors. 'A wish a'd niver hidden mysel'; it were his doing, jerking his thumb toward Philip: 'a'm ready to stand by what a've done. Yo've getten a warrant a'll be bound, for them justices is grand at writin' when t' fight's over.
"Well, old chap, what's up? You don't look too pleased," said Alston to Claude as the door shut. "Don't you want to come out? But we must put our backs into this, you know. The fight's on, and a bully big fight it is. Seen the papers to-day?" "No. I haven't had a minute. I've been going through the orchestration with Meroni." "What does he say?" "He was very nice," answered Claude evasively.
"Well, what do you want me to do?" "Stop this foolishness an' take down them fences for a mile each side of the trail. If Buck has to come up here the whole thing'll go down. Road-brand me two hundred of yore three-year-olds. Now as soon as you agree, an' say that the fight's over, it will be. You can't win out; an' what's the use of having yore men killed off?"
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