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Updated: May 29, 2025
"I must say this for you, Winnie Bartlett, you don't think you're the whole shootin' match," said a stout, red-faced creature, who would have been more at home on a farm than in a New York warehouse, "but it gets my goat when you hand the mustard to Fowle in that way. If he made goo-goo eyes at me, I'd play, too."
Don't you, Fowle?" and Carshaw gave the disappointed wooer a look of such manifest purpose that something had to happen quickly. Something did happen. Fowle knew the game was up, and behaved after the manner of his kind. "You're a cute little thing, Winifred Bartlett," he sneered, with a malicious glance from the girl to Carshaw, while a coarse guffaw imparted venom to his utterance.
As a precaution, however, Major Fowle was kept at Fort Crawford, and the post was provisioned for a year. During the next twenty years the force maintained at Fort Snelling was small, and the garrison was occupied in routine tasks, the regulation of Indian affairs, and the fur trade.
To their ears, as to the ears of those waiting in the car at the gate, came the sound of violent blows and the wrenching open of the door. In that large house in a room situated, too, on the side removed from the road they could not catch Carshaw's exulting cry after a peep through the window: "I have them! Voles and Fowle! There they are!
The "Gazette" was the pioneer journal of the province. It was followed at the close of the same year by "The Mercury and Weekly Advertiser," published by a former apprentice of Fowle, a certain Thomas Furber, backed by a number of restless Whigs, who considered the "Gazette" not sufficiently outspoken in the cause of liberty. Mr.
Winifred was aware that the other girls were watching her furtively and exchanging meaning looks. "You take the Third Avenue L, I suppose?" persisted Fowle. Then Winifred faced him squarely. For some reason her temper got the better of her. "It is a house rule, Mr. Fowle," she said, "that the girls are forbidden to talk during working hours." "Nonsense," laughed Fowle.
"There are three of them now. I only wish I was there, too!" "I don't like the proposition, an' that's a fact," muttered Fowle, lifting a glass of whisky and glancing furtively at Voles, when the domineering eyes of the superior scoundrel were averted for a moment. "Whether you like it or not, you've got to lump it," was the ready answer. "I don't see that.
We hid them in the ground on the other sid of the river in a peece of ground. We told them that lye that they should not have suspicion of us. We made good cheere. They stayed there three dayes, during which time many of their wives came thither, and we traited them well, for they eat not fowle att all, scarce, because they know not how to catch them except with their arrowes.
for which they are committed to a vessel to carry them to the fleete to be tried. A most fowle unhandsome thing as ever was heard, for plain cowardice on Nixon's part.
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