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Updated: May 2, 2025
"That is quite a long time, isn't it?" He flicked his whip across the horse's ears. "Yes, and I'm glad," he said. "Otherwise, I shouldn't have seen much of you. I happen to know that I am taking in Miss Caruthers to dinner, and dinner takes up most of the evening at these functions." "You are taking in Lois Caruthers!" she said, laughing. "I know of some one who will be annoyed."
But no matter, no matter! That's what I am going for. The blockheads will be forced at last to see the tragedy of it all! When they drag me to the door I shall call out to them that in reality they are not worth my little finger. Get on, driver, get on!" I cried to the driver. He started and flicked his whip, I shouted so savagely. "We shall fight at daybreak, that's a settled thing.
But first, grant me time for my isha, my evening prayer!" "It is granted. And, Rrisa, there is the kiblah, the direction of Mecca!" The Master pointed exactly east. Rrisa faced that way, knelt, prostrated himself. He made ablution with sand, as Mohammed allows when water cannot be found. Even as he poured it down his face, the strangely gusting wind flicked it away in little whirls.
The huge frame of the old cattleman jerked as if he had been stabbed. His face turned purple. "What criminal?" he shouted, hoarsely. The sheriff flicked his quirt against his dirty boot, and he twisted his thin lips into a leer. The situation was agreeable to him. "Why, Bill, I knowed you hed a no-good outfit ridin' this range; but I wasn't wise thet you hed more 'n one criminal." "Cut that talk!
He nearly turned me over his knee and spanked me the last time." "My dear, I wish he had!" said Mrs. Ralston, with downright fervour. "It would do you good." "Think so?" Netta flicked the ash from her cigarette with a disdainful gesture. "It all depends. I should either worship him or loath him afterwards. I wonder which. Poor old Richard!
I think all birds show this slight but definite individuality in manner and voice and are probably known to their neighbors of the same clan, as we are, each by his voice. And even so simple and definite a thing as the pine warbler's song may be varied by the individual singer from time to time. I heard one fine bird singing in the stereotyped form. As he sang a flicker flicked in the distance.
Jimmie Dale, lazily ensconced now in a lounging chair in one of the club's private library rooms, flicked a minute speck of cigar ash from the sleeve of his dinner jacket, and smiled whimsically across the table at his friend. "Oh, I dare say there's a lot in physiognomy, Carruthers," he drawled. "Never studied the thing, you know that is, from the standpoint of crime.
They came to an abrupt stop and Dan dropped into a chair while Black Bart sank upon his haunches and snapped at the hand which Dan flicked across his face with lightning movements. The master fell motionless and silent. His eyes forgot the wolf. Rising, they rested on Kate's face. They rose again and looked past her. She understood and waited.
A saying of Japheth Pettigrass's, overheard in Hargis's store on the first day of the meetings, flicked into his mind and stuck there: "Hit's scare, first, last, and all the time, with Brother Silas. He knows mighty well that a good bunch o' hickories, that'll bring the blood every cut, beats a sugar kittle out o' sight when it comes to fillin' the anxious seat." Was it really his call?
And since you always get there sooner or later, my help would be superfluous." "You share the popular belief about my luck?" asked Hone. "To be sure," she answered gaily. "Even you could scarcely manage to find fault with it." He drew a deep breath. "Not with you in the boat," he said. She withdrew her hand from the water, and flicked it in his face. "Hadn't you better slow down?
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