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Updated: June 9, 2025
"Honest, Mex do you expect us to do that? Be cavalier I haven't even got a pistol, right now. Neither has Igor, here. Come look-see... Hi, Frankie!" "Just stay there," Nelsen gruffed. Tiflin cocked his head inside the helmet of a brand-new Archer Six, in a burlesqued pose for inspection. He looked bad. His face had turned hard and lean. There were scars on it.
Then when the idlers come in and start touching our things, we'll go up to 'em and say, "'Ere, watcher doin' of? Just you put it down, will yer?" And if they don't put it down at once, it'll be the worse for 'em, I can tell you. All the toys being collected, Frankie picked up the box and placed it noisily in its accustomed corner of the room.
A man of strong convictions and abiding honesty, a soldier who knew his profession thoroughly, having not only achieved distinction in the Civil War, but having served when little more than a boy, in the Mexican War of 1846. Genial in his manners, brave and kind, he was beloved by all. The three Kautz children, Frankie, Austin, and Navarra, were the inseparable companions of our own children.
We talked of him a good deal, and then it was that Dot announced his grand purpose of being an artist. "When I am a man," he finished, in a serious voice, "I mean to work harder than Fred, and paint great big pictures, and perhaps some grand nobleman will buy them of me." "I wonder what your first subject will be, Frankie?" asked Allan, in a slightly amused voice.
"Frankie ... I suppose you wouldn't take it from me ... and ... and be off somewhere. We could meet again later.... I ... I'm afraid someone may have spotted us coming through the village earlier. They'll ... they'll search, I expect." "You can do your own dirty work," whispered Frank earnestly through the darkness.
When Hunter noticed how well cared for and well dressed he was he thought the child must belong to well-to-do, respectable parents. Frankie did not pay much attention to the lesson, for he was too much interested in the pictures on the walls and in looking at the other children.
Little Frankie Adams was to go along wearing his old shoes, and Kitty Gowan, who had been figuring on a belated winter suit, had tearfully thrown a handful of samples in the fire and put the fond notion aside. Little O'Grady wiped a sympathetic eye. "Oh, Daff, I'm so sorry for you; just at the time, too, when " He dared not proceed, awed by Dill's protesting pathos.
Trying to get her free, he dropped his machete... Huth's voice spoke in his helmet-phone. "We hear you, Nelsen! Hold out... We'll be there in forty minutes..." Yeah forty minutes. "It's it's silly to be so scared, Frankie..." he heard Nance stammer almost apologetically. Dear Nance... Screaming, he kicked out again and again with his heavy boots, and got both her and himself loose.
Why, he told me only this morning that he thought I wasn't half as good to him as Frankie Clayton's mother is to him, just because I wouldn't let him have the garden hose to play fireman with." "Just wait until he's fifteen, my dear," returned Mr. Lloyd, "and if he doesn't think then that he has one of the best mothers in the world, why I'll never again venture to prophesy, that's all.
He was one of the best known of the prisoners in Andersonville; bright, active, always cheerful, and forever in motion during waking hours, every one in the Prison speedily became familiar with him, and all addressed him as "Sergeant Frankie."
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