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Updated: June 8, 2025
Carl Granberry stared insolently across the table. "Pass the buck," he reminded coolly. "And pour yourself some more whiskey. You're only a gentleman when you're drunk, Starrett. You're sober now." Payson and Wherry laughed. Starrett, not yet in the wine-flush of his heavy courtesy, passed the buck with a frown of annoyance.
They had rescued, entertained and enabled to preach a man who was endeavoring to propagate a faith that was very much opposed to their own. The explanation is that they had attended Granberry College, that great Methodist school at Juiz de Fora.
There was a disappointing lack of interest in the other's face. "Even that is possible," assented the foreigner stiffly, "Environment is a shifting circumstance of many colors. The honor of your acquaintance, however, I fear is not mine." Carl's eyes, dark and cold as agate, compelled attention. "My name," said he deliberately, "is Granberry, Carl Westfall Granberry."
Now there were mad, irreverent moments when Carl Granberry delivered his poker sermons with the eloquent mannerisms of the pulpit, save, as Payson held, they were infinitely more logical and eloquent, but to-night, husking his logic of these externals, he fell flatly to preaching an unadorned philosophy of continence acutely at variance with his own habits.
General Granberry, who, poor fellow, was killed in the butchery at Franklin afterwards, goes up to the breastworks, and says, "Look here, Yank, we're fighting, sure enough." Meynheer Dutchman comes out; and says, "Ish dot so? Vel I ish peen von leetle pit hungry dish morning, und I yust gobble you up for mein lunch pefore tinner dime. Dot ish der kind of mans vot I bees!"
"Yes," said Tregar sadly, "Themar was a traitor." "I told him much," said Ronador, great drops of moisture standing forth upon his forehead. "It seemed that I must, to make him understand the urgent need of silencing Granberry forever. He cabled the news to Galituria and sold it. I am ill and discouraged. There is fever in my blood, Tregar, from this climate of eternal summer a fever in my head "
For, cigarettes rolled with sweet corn husk were as honey to Buck's palate; and though he could finger the trigger of a forty-five with skill and suddenness, he never could learn to roll a cigarette. This from Buck Caperton! But I maintain that the cigarettes were impeccable, and crave absolution for myself. "We just brought in Jim and Bud Granberry," said Buck. "Train robbing, you know.
Poynter is at the bedside of his father. Granberry has gone to learn the tale of the other candlestick. These men, Ronador, we must see again before we sail. In the meantime, there is Poynter's physician." "Very well," said Ronador, goaded to a sudden consent by a fevered wave of nausea and shaking, "let us go to him." So came Prince Ronador and the Baron to the island lodge of Mic-co.
"I am going to the Maine woods," said a lad named George Granberry. "You can never guess who is going there, too." "Who?" "William Philander Tubbs and Mr. Strong." "What, our own dude going to camp in the wilderness," cried Tom. "Oh, if I was only along wouldn't I give him some surprises!" "I'll have some fun don't forget that!" replied George, with a grin. "But as Mr.
"Granberry, for all your ciphered pledges, lives and mocks me as he did tonight, as he did months back. I could kill him for the indignities he has heaped upon me, if for nothing else. And he knows more than you think. What did he mean to-night?" "Circumstances," said Tregar coldly, "have made you unduly sensitive and suspicious.
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