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"Some chump in the supply department has handed him out a bag of foot powder when he asked for flour." He showed the others the marking on the bag, and their merriment equaled his own, while Tony alternately glowered and grinned. He had begun to think that somebody had cast on him the "evil eye," so dreaded by his countrymen, and he was relieved to find that his plight was due to natural causes.

But I am here to tell you if you care to know that Elinor Ruth Farringdon is no more married than you are unless she is married to you. That was her mother's wedding ring. Lord, man, do you always drive a car like this? I've been all but killed once this year and I don't care to repeat the experiment." Larry grinned, flushed, apologized and moderated the speed of his motor.

I've been wondering where I could locate you both. Ought to have nosed you out before now, but my job keeps me busy. I'm with a magazine house, you know advertising manager." "I didn't know," answered Mary, whose head was whirling. "Ah," he grinned at her, "you're surprised at my metamorphosis.

When he had finished eating, Conniston went straight to his bunk. He had no desire for conversation; he did want both rest and a chance to think. He was straightening out his tumbled covers when Lonesome Pete tapped him upon the shoulder. "No hay for yours, Con," he grinned. "Not yet. Miss Argyl wants you to come up to the house. Right away, she said, as soon as you'd et.

"A thousand, thousand times!" "How come?" "I can't tell you." "I kind of wish," said Sinclair thoughtfully, "that I'd kept my grip a mite longer." "No, no!" "You don't wish him dead?" Jig shuddered. "You plumb beat me, partner. And now you want to come along with me?" Sinclair grinned. "An outlaw's life ain't what it's cracked up to be, son. You'd last about a day doing what I have to do."

"Mr. Bartley, meet my foreman, Lon Pelly." They shook hands. "Lon says the source of Green River is Joy in the Hills," asserted the Senator, smiling. The long, lean cow-puncher grinned. "Steve, here, says the source of Green River is trouble." "Now, as a writin' man, what would you say?" queried the Senator. Bartley gazed at the label on the bottle under discussion.

"It is lucky for me that you came down to the river bank," grinned the Portuguese as he ran his hand over Frank's clothes, to ascertain the hiding-place of the precious map of the ivory cache, "otherwise I should have had to delay my departure till to-night, and possibly have cut your throat while you slept."

It shivered in the chill morning wind, and grinned dispiritedly when the man spoke to it in a voice that achieved no more than a hoarse whisper. The sun rose brightly, and all morning the man tottered and fell toward the ship on the shining sea. The weather was perfect. It was the brief Indian Summer of the high latitudes. It might last a week. To-morrow or next day it might he gone.

She drew a long breath and looked and looked. "Like it, do you?" asked Zoeth, echoing his friend's question. Mary-'Gusta nodded. "Yes, sir," she said. "It it's lovely." Captain Shadrach nodded. "Best town on earth, if I do say it," he said, emphatically. "So you think it's lovely, eh?" "Yes, sir." Then, pointing, she asked: "Is that your house?" The Captain grinned.

"This lift has been a godsend, and I can't thank you, but I've got the name of the company you're working for in New York and I'll drop around some night when I'm flush and you're knocking off, and we'll see if the old burg is as dry as it's supposed to be." "You're on!" The driver grinned. "Got a job waitin' for yer? We need some helpers." "I've got a job."