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Updated: June 26, 2025
Mighty poor kind of a king, I should say," growled Growler sarcastically; but he rose and flicked the leaves and twigs from his clothing before he helped himself to the coffee which was now hot. "One cup for two people is just one too few," laughed Cheery when it came his turn to take some. "My! but it tastes good. There's nothing like the open air to give one an appetite."
Heathcote," said the sergeant, as the remnant of a real English plum- pudding was put between him and his man by Mrs. Growler. "A little hotter than it is at home, eh?" "Indeed it is. You must have had it hot last night, Sir." "Very hot, sergeant. We had to work uncommonly hard to do it as well as we did." "It was not a nice Christmas game, Sir, was it?" "Eh, me!" said Mrs. Medlicot.
The bitterness of the dreaded task was deepened also by contrast with the gambols of his cousin Billy, who was hunting rats with Growler amid the last sheaves of the stack bottom. The piercing shrieks of Billy, as he clapped his hands in murderous glee, mingled now and again with the barking of the dog.
Shouting to his friends to take the canoe and do their utmost to rescue the unfortunate girl, Grant dived from the deck of the Black Growler and a moment later with powerful strokes was swiftly approaching the victims of the accident.
Muddy, drizzly, foggy London, London, with its well filled omnibuses tearing along the streets, more dangerous than the chariots of Rome, London, with its bustling thoroughfares, with its traffic blocked at the corners by the raised white gloved hand of the policeman, London, with the four wheeled growler piled high with luggage, and the dashing hansom whirling along, missing the wheels of other vehicles by half an inch, while its occupant sits serenely smoking, or motioning his directions to his cabman with an umbrella; London, with its constantly moving procession of every sort of wheeled carriage, from the four-horsed coach to the coster barrow.
"I'm not charging nobody with nothin', as Sam says," laughed John, "but it's strange that boat didn't give any warning." "They said that we didn't give any warning either," spoke up Grant. "Perhaps we were as much to blame as they were." "Well, if that's the only thing that happens to us," said Fred, "I shan't complain, that is, if the Black Growler isn't put out of the race."
This "old barnacle-back" was as surly a growler as ever went aloft, but to his "chicken" he was as tender and thoughtful as a woman. They found a shady nook in one corner, and any moment one looked in that direction he could see the old tar hard at work at something for the comfort and pleasure of his pet.
I never saw a studding-sail in any of the schooners, the Scourge excepted. The Julia and Growler now ran down, the former leading, half a cable's-length apart. When we entered between the two lines of the enemy, we were within short canister-range, and got it smartly on both tacks.
This story is true. It's a complete narrative of truthful John. I was about to turn back and make inquiries when I could get an express train for Albany, when what should I see coming up to the dock but the Varmint II. As soon as the people on board saw me they immediately began to urge me to come with them. They had seen the Growler just pulling out and leaving me in my unfortunate plight."
"When you have made up your mind that somebody is trying to put the Black Growler out of business it is easy for you to believe that everything is working for that one thing." "You don't know as much as you might," said Sam tartly. "By which you mean?" inquired Grant. "By which I mean just this," responded Sam warmly. "The people that own the Varmint II are a tough crowd.
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