United States or Chad ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
It was this same afternoon, along about 2:30, that I gets a call from Old Hickory's private office and finds this picturesque lookin' bird with the three piece white lip whiskers and the premature Panama lid glarin' indignant at the boss. "Torchy," says Mr. Ellins, glancin' at a card, "this is Señor Don Pedro Cassaba y Tarragona." "Oh, yes!" says I, just as though I wasn't surprised a bit.
For instance, I had happened to be in Old Hickory's private office when old man Tyler, who's one of our directors, you know, had wished his only son onto our bond room staff. He's kind of a rough old boy, Z. K. Tyler, one of the bottom-rungers who likes to tell how he made his start as fry cook on an owl lunch wagon.
He's got up in a complete khaki rig, includin' shirt and hat to match, and below the eyebrows he has a complexion like a mahogany sideboard. It don't take him long to make himself right to home among us. "Well, well!" says he, workin' a forced draught on one of Old Hickory's choice cassadoras. "Who'd ever think of running across you down here? After tarpon, eh? That's me, too.
Say, there are just seventeen floor cracks between me and the opposite wall; it's fifty-eight steps through into Old Hickory's roll-top and back; and the ink I've poured into all them desk-wells would be enough to float a ferry-boat.
Robert is, no matter if he does take it out in wishin'! It ain't every boss would do that much, specially with the load he's carryin'. For you know since Old Hickory's been down South takin' seven kinds of baths, and prob'ly cussin' out them resort doctors as they was never cussed before, Mr. Robert Ellins has been doin' a heap more than give an imitation of bein' a busy man.
"Now I must walk all the way to old Hickory's for fire," he grumbled; "and it is growing dark." Tired and hungry, he left the cave. He had not gone far when a dead branch fell across his path. He jumped back. "The people who live in the trees did that some of those shadow people," he said to himself. "They tried to kill me. The man who lives in the wind is angry, too. Hear him roar!
"Dy'ar think we daresen't?" said Hickory desperately, but with an uneasy glance at Polly. "I'll show yer to-morrow." The entrance of Polly's mother at this moment put an end to Polly's authority and dispersed the pirate band, but left Wan Lee's proposal and Hickory's rash acceptance ringing in the ears of the Pirate Queen. That evening she was unusually silent.
Commodore Elliot had his pocket picked at the White House on inauguration day, the thief depriving him of his wallet, which contained several valued relics. One was a letter from General Jackson, congratulating him on his restoration to his position in the service, and containing a lock of "Old Hickory's" hair; another was a letter from Mrs. Madison, inclosing a lock of Mr. Madison's hair. Mrs.
They were tall men, with sinewy frames and piercing eyes. Under "Old Hickory's" lead they had won the bloody battle of the Horseshoe Bend against the Creeks; they had driven the Spaniards from Pensacola; and now they were eager to pit themselves against the most renowned troops of all Europe. Jackson acted with his usual fiery, hasty decision.
The women pulled it from the holes with long sticks, and the people took great pieces in their hands and ate them, and then took more. "Mammoth meat is good and juicy," one man said. "Yes," said another, "but not so tender as horse or reindeer meat." After eating all they wanted, Thorn and Pineknot and old Hickory's children and some of the other children went off to play.
Word Of The Day