Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 16, 2025
"Jim," he said, with anxious emotion, "did you think that I shot Lamoury?" "Yes, sir," said Jim. "But why, my boy, why should I want to shoot him?" "Lamoury had been telling," said Jim, highly embarrassed. "Telling?" said his father, in perplexity. "Yes, sir," said Jim, "you know about your being a a smuggler." Much astonished, Mr.
That evening after tea, when he went up to the post-office, he heard that Pete Lamoury had been shot by Jim Edwards, and was now in bed with his wounds. Jim's arrest was predicted. Young Farnsworth, who kept the crockery store, told him the news.
Relieved of his burden of anxiety and remorse in regard to Jim, he began to think more definitely than he had done heretofore of the possibility of serious harm to Lamoury. It was dreadful to think that he might have badly wounded an inoffensive man. Was Lamoury much hurt? What would happen to a marble in a shotgun, anyhow? Would he be arrested? Would his case get to trial?
"I guess I may as well tell ye, first as last," he said, in a sort of stubborn despair. "'T was me that shot Lamoury." "You!" exclaimed his wife, dropping her knife and fork, and looking at him as if she thought he had taken leave of his senses. "I guess I'm the feller," he averred, with queer, pathetic humor.
"You don't object to having an excellent doctor like Doctor Brigham look at your wounds, do you?" asked Paige. Now Lamoury had no wounds to show. The smiling, well-dressed Paige, standing there and looking at him with amused comprehension, was more than he could bear. Pete suddenly lost his temper, never too secure.
Abijah's exclamation was not deference to legal knowledge; it was merely quick seizure of a tactical point. "Lamoury was shot," Paige went on, with a little smile at Keith's interruption, "and by his own statement, Mr. Peaslee shot him. On his own admission, his gun was dangerously loaded.
"So this," he said, "is the hardened ruffian of whom our esteemed fellow citizen, Mr. Lamoury, complains?" And indeed Jim, although stubborn, did not seem very dangerous. The squire looked about the room. "Is he represented by counsel?" he asked. "No, I represent him," said Mr. Edwards.
While the state's attorney held wide the door, Jake Hibbard solemnly pushed into the room a great wheeled chair, in which sat the small, wiry, furtive-eyed Lamoury. Mr. Peaslee's heart sank as he saw the wheeled chair, and noted the great bandages about the Frenchman's head and arm.
Lamoury," said Paige, with a very casual air, "behind those bushes is a broken board." "So-o?" said Pete. "Any one who was there had an excellent chance to study the fastenings of Mr. Peaslee's hen-house door." "Mais, Ah'll was tol' you Ah'll not be dere, me!" cried Pete, alarmed and excited. "That," said Mr. Paige, calmly, "is the only place where you could be and get shot from the boy's window.
But, Jim, you can see yourself that if you don't tell what you know, everybody'll think that you shot and meant to hurt Lamoury, and then it might go pretty hard with you. Now come, tell me what happened." "You'd better tell, Jimmie," said Mrs. Calkins, straightening up from her wash-tub. "You won't find any better friends than Mr. Farnsworth and Miss Ware."
Word Of The Day
Others Looking