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Updated: May 26, 2025
"You you killed this man?" faltered the clerk. "I hadn't only one ca'tridge, pardner," Filer said patiently. "And Hank he's accounted a pretty clever gunman. Well, maybe he was. Ole Filer he shoots ole jack rabbits in the eye at twenty paces with a six, they'll tell ye. Anyway ye can figger that out, here's Hank. And he oughta see a coroner er somethin'. I don't want 'im.
He would get his car and drive up the line a way, toward the camp where he had seen Filer two days before. He could readily learn at intervening camps whether or not Hiram had ridden that way on Jo's black mare. He had no appetite for breakfast, so he got out his touring car and drove away toward the north while Ragtown slept.
"Well, well, well! Scrap all night about nothing! Forget it! Shut up! Guess who I saw to-day as I was driving over the desert." "Who?" sullenly. "Your dear old uncle." "My uncle!" "Sure that's what you called him. Basil Filer, the crazy prospector." "Sure enough, Al?" Lucy's tones were brighter. "Pretty much so. Didn't seem to recognize me at all.
"Léonard paid a great deal of attention to scales and the right way to practice them. He would say, 'Il faut filer les sons: c'est l'art des maîtres. Himself a great classical violinist, he nevertheless paid a good deal of attention to virtuoso pieces; and always tried to prepare his pupils for public life.
Filer grinned and stepped up to the counter, eying the girl from under heavy, fierce eyebrows that looked as if the dust of a thousand trails had settled in them. Lucy lowered her dark lashes and looked demure. "B'long on the desert, girlie?" rumbled the deep voice of the old prospector. "Sure, Uncle." "Uh-huh. And how old might ye be, now?" "Nearly twenty-two." "Uh-huh pretty near twenty-two.
Not long after this he became agreeable to anything that Al Drummond might suggest. Al took him from place to place, always standing his share of the exorbitant prices demanded in Ragtown, and finally suggested that they try their marksmanship as a diversion. "Good!" agreed Filer gutturally. "Little girl, eh? Pretty!" He winked knowingly at Drummond. "I wanta have talk with her. I know who she is.
Lawrence's division marched south to invest Badajoz Small choice allowed by the fortunes of war In the trenches A fort taken The town walls breached Refusal of the garrison to surrender An assault ordered Lawrence in the forlorn hope A somewhat premature assignation Fighting in the breach Lawrence wounded Fearful scenes on his way to the rear He reports on the state of affairs to Lord Wellington The story of Filer The castle carried after severe fighting, and the English enter the town Dreadful excesses on the part of the victorious troops Great losses on both sides in the assault The end of Lawrence's assignation.
Sir Joseph Bowley, Baronet and Member of Parliament, was to play a match at skittles real skittles with his tenants! 'Which quite reminds me, said Alderman Cute, 'of the days of old King Hal, stout King Hal, bluff King Hal. Ah! Fine character! 'Very, said Mr. Filer, dryly. 'For marrying women and murdering 'em. Considerably more than the average number of wives by the bye.
Its life was parcelled out in almanacks and pocket-books; the coming of its moons, and stars, and tides, was known beforehand to the moment; all the workings of its seasons in their days and nights, were calculated with as much precision as Mr. Filer could work sums in men and women. The New Year, the New Year. Everywhere the New Year!
Filer, and Olive, over there, in her sightless, soundless shame, but the great expectant hall as well, and the mighty multitude, in suspense, keeping quiet from minute to minute and holding the breath of its anger from which all these things looked small, surmountable, and of the moment only.
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