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Updated: May 13, 2025
"And they hauled us over to their dirty old Justice of the Peace, and he told us he'd give us thirty days in jail if we was in the county to-morrow noon, and we don't know how far this county goes, either way!" "Fifty miles to St. Simon," Bill told them comfortingly. "You can make it, all right " "We can make it, hey? How're we going to make it, with our car layin' around all over your garage?"
As he and McGuffey busied themselves, laying the leading blocks along the deck, they glanced toward the Maggie and observed Captain Scraggs hurling crates of vegetables overboard in an effort to get at the small boat quickly. "He'll die when the freight claims come in," Mr. McGuffey chortled. "Poor ol' Scraggsy!" "How're we goin' to git that durned anchor up, Gib?" "We ain't goin' to get it up.
And we don't need to git within gunshot!" "Fine and dandy," commented Jim, "but how're you goin' to hold your horses to it? Them herders will shoot off their guns and turn 'em back." "Well, what's the matter with usin' our tame horses for a hold-up herd and then sendin' the whole bunch through together? They'll strike for the box cañon, you can bank on that, and if Mr. Juan will only " But Mr.
He rose and went to her table with a lateral, shining smile and a blush of pleased trepidation. "How're ye, Miss Posie?" he said in accents not to be doubted. "Don't ye remember me Bill Summers the Summerses that lived back of the blacksmith shop? I reckon I've growed up some since ye left Cranberry Corners. "'Liza Perry 'lowed I might see ye in the city while I was here.
"Yes, but you forget one thing," the sly-eyed Hal rejoined: "With so much Q R M, it's very hard to pick out common sense in an affair like this." "That's true," replied the other. "We've had more interference in this trip thus far than anything else." "And the big question now is, how're we goin' to tune it out?" "I confess, I'm stumped," said Cub.
It's all easy enough so far as the major's concerned, but that blackguard Feeny's different, I tell you. He'd hear the gurgle of the spigot if he were ten miles across the Gila, and be here to bust things before you could serve out a gill, damn him! He's been keen enough to put that psalm-singing Yankee on guard over your liquor. How're you going to get at it, anyhow?"
"How did you make out? How're the boys! What became of Bill Smithers? Is Del Bishop still with Pierce? Did he sell my dogs? How did Sulphur Bottom show up? You're looking fine. What steamer did you come out on?" To all of which Churchill gave answer, till half an hour had gone by and the first lull in the conversation had arrived.
The elder man glanced fiercely up the road, then turned his red face to his nephew. 'And how're you going on, lad? he said loudly. Berry noticed that his uncle was slightly uneasy of him. It made him also uncomfortable. The elder man had evidently something pressing on his soul. 'Who are you living with in town? asked the nephew. 'Have you gone back to Aunt Maud? 'No, barked the uncle.
"Maybe we'd better get out of here," suggested Blake. "We've got a lot of views, and " "Don't run yet, Buddies!" called a voice, and along came Private Drew. "You'll never hear the bullet that hits you. And they're firing high, the Fritzes are! Don't run yet. How're you making it?" "All right so far, but it's fierce!" cried Blake, as he stopped for a moment to let a smoke cloud blow away.
As each of the four hundred Boosters entered he took from a wall-board a huge celluloid button announcing his name, his nick name, and his business. There was a fine of ten cents for calling a Fellow Booster by anything but his nickname at a lunch, and as Babbitt jovially checked his hat the air was radiant with shouts of "Hello, Chet!" and "How're you, Shorty!" and "Top o' the mornin', Mac!"
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