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Butler's assailant dropped his burden, dodged into a passageway in the deck-house, closing the door behind him and disappearing before the newcomer reached the door and threw it open. Then the rescuer turned to the unconscious Tad Butler. "Well, here's trouble!" he muttered. Taking up Tad's limp form he carried it to where the light from the grating shone up. "It's that freckle-faced kid.
There were boys, of course, for the asking; sunburnt, freckle-faced, tousle-headed, barefooted little devils who, when my back was turned, would do handsprings over my cushions, landing on the mattress, or break the pole the first day out, leaving me high and dry on some island out of calling distance; but full-grown, sober-minded, steady men, who could pole all day or sit beside me patiently while I worked, hand me the right brush or tube of color, or palette, or open a bottle of soda without spilling half of it that kind of man was scarce.
Sam Dawson was also an observer of the scene. He saw the threatening scowl that Ketcham gave the smiling Tad, and drew his own conclusions, and at the same time decided that the freckle-faced boy was pretty well able to hold his own. Dawson really suspected part of the reason for this hasty disembarking, though he thought it was because Tad had threatened to expose the man Ketcham.
Her eyes were wide apart, and she possessed the calm that precedes a storm that never comes. Like fancy, "It is engendered in the eyes." There are three kinds of beauties I was foreordained to be homiletic; I can never stick to a story. The first is the freckle-faced, snub-nosed girl whom you like. The second is Maud Adams. The third is, or are, the ladies in Bouguereau's paintings.
The freckle-faced boy walked over to the pony and laid his cheek against its nose, which he patted softly, his head averted so that the others might not see the pain in his eyes. "You you might call yourselves 'The Pony Rider Boys," suggested Tad, controlling his voice with an effort.
As for Kitty, she had gone to bed not at all convinced that Hugh Guinness was dead. It was a more absorbing Mystery, that was all. But it did not keep her awake. She did not spin any romantic fancies about him or his dark history. If he were alive, he was very likely as disagreeable and freckle-faced a man as he had been a boy.
The freckle-faced boy looked up from his whittling when the shadow of Bull fell athwart him, with an equal admiration; also with suspicion, for the cowpunchers, on the whole, were apt to make game of the youngster and his grave, grown-up ways. He was, therefore, shrewdly suspicious of jests at his expense.
The freckle-faced boy eyed the Indian keenly, but Anvik's impassive face told him nothing. The guide had discovered something else. Tad was sure of that, but what that something was the boy had not the slightest idea. Tad's gaze roved about over the landscape, traveling slowly from mountain to mountain, from peak to peak.
"'Now, look a here, you freckle-faced shrimp! he says. 'Get off this bale of hay it'll poison a hoss if you set on it much longer! "'Whose bale of hay do you think this is? I says. 'You tryin' to hog it like you does game? "'Gimme my lantern 'n' I'll be on my way, says Peewee. "'I puts the oil in that lantern, I says, ''n' she sets right where she is till she makes her last flicker.
There were two, and they sat defiantly in their seats, sneering their contempt of the teacher's wrath, advertising their entire disregard for the restraining influence of rules. Both were boys. The larger, freckle-faced, with an uptilted nose and belligerent eyes, was fully as tall as Ruth.
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