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"By Jove, there IS something there," said Barry, who had a hawk's eye. "You've got 'em too, eh," laughed Hopeton. "I've had 'em for the last forty-eight hours. I've been 'seein' things' all night." "But there is," insisted Barry, pointing over the port bow. "What is it like?" asked Captain Neil, while Hopeton ran for his glass.
After reaching Turlock, I sped afoot over the stubble fields and through miles of brown hemizonia and purple erigeron, to Hopeton, conscious of little more than that the town was behind and beneath me, and the mountains above and before me; on through the oaks and chaparral of the foothills to Coulterville; and then ascended the first great mountain step upon which grows the sugar pine.
After a single remark about the "beastly bore" of military duty, Hopeton ignored Barry, giving such attention as he had to spare from his dinner to a man across the table, with whom, apparently, he had shared some rather exciting social experiences in the city. For the first half hour of the meal, the conversation was of the most trivial nature, and was to Barry supremely uninteresting.
"What extraordinary thing is it that Sally knows?" inquired Major Bustead, who lounged up to the group. "We were discussing the padre's break, Major, which for my part," drawled Hopeton, "I consider rotten discipline." "Discipline!" snorted the major. "By Gad, it was a piece of the most damnable cheek I have ever heard at a mess table. He ought to be sent to Coventry.
"I'm sure I don't know what I am going to do," he said ruefully. "I can't walk and I can't ride, and I don't know as I can stay here." "Perhaps Dick and I can carry you to Hopeton," said Sam, mentioning a, small town just beyond the railroad tracks. "It will be a big job. If you Here comes a wagon. Perhaps the driver of that will give me a lift."
I had to go to the asylum at Hopeton, because nobody would take me. They didn't want me at the asylum, either; they said they were over-crowded as it was. But they had to take me and I was there four months until Mrs. Spencer came." Anne finished up with another sigh, of relief this time. Evidently she did not like talking about her experiences in a world that had not wanted her.
"You've got it too, eh!" said Captain Neil, clearing his own throat. "I've got something, God knows!" answered Hopeton, wiping his eyes. "I, too," said Barry, swallowing the proverbial lump. "Those little little " "Bulldogs," suggested Hopeton. "Bulldog pups," said Captain Neil. "That's it," said Barry. "That's what they are, little bulldog pups, got me by the throat all right."
"Well, we've been thinking about it for some time all winter in fact," returned Marilla. "Mrs. Alexander Spencer was up here one day before Christmas and she said she was going to get a little girl from the asylum over in Hopeton in the spring. Her cousin lives there and Mrs. Spencer has visited here and knows all about it. So Matthew and I have talked it over off and on ever since.
"He is one sure singing bird," said another sub, a stout, overgrown boy by the name of Booth. "The nerve of him," added Booth in admiration. "Nerve!" echoed a young captain, "but what about the pilot's nerve?" "Sui generis, Train, I should say," drawled Hopeton. "Suey, who did you say?" inquired Sally. "What's her second name?
But if some of you damned young idiots that sniff at him had just half his guts, you'd be twice the men you are. Shut up, Hopeton! Listen to me " and in words of fiery rage that ran close to tears, he recounted his experience of the last hour. "By Jove! Doc, some guts, eh?" said Sally in a low tone, as he moved away.
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