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"What is your opinion, Peter?" continued le Bourdon. "You understand the wilderness, and its ways. To what is this extr'or'nary call owing? Why have we been brought here, at this hour?" "Somebody blow horn, most likely," answered Peter, in his unmoved, philosophical manner. "'Spose don't know; den can't tell. Warrior often hear 'larm on war-path." "This is an onaccountable thing!
"Fahrt wohl, ihr Strassen grad and krumm Ich zieh' nicht mehr in euch herum, Durchton euch nicht mehr mit Gesang, Mit Larm nicht mehr and Sporenklang." As the deep tones died away, the soft night was steeped in the sadness of that farewell song. It was Richter who brought the full force of it home to Stephen. "Do you recall the day you left your Harvard, and your Boston, my friend?" he asked.
"What you want?" he asked. "What you mean? Slingin' criticism ever since you came on this ship! What you mean by it? Heh? What you mean?" Staniford rose, and Lydia gave a start. He cast an angry look at her. "Do you think I'd hurt him?" he demanded. Hicks went on: "Sorry, very sorry, 'larm a lady, specially lady we all respec'. But this particular affair. Touch touches my honor.
"It was for the seventh district the only 'larm that night. It was a false 'larm, and only three or four rounds was sounded. Did you hear the bell many times?" "Only two or three, and then it stopped. The sound was very plain, sir, because the bell tower is only a short distance from here, you know." "Exactly," said the foreman. "You woke up just as Uncle Ith was givin' off the last round."
There was a deep, awestruck silence in the room; for all understood the object of these inquiries. "Now, gentlemen," continued the foreman, in a trembling voice, "let the prisoner only prove that he was a half, or a quarter, or an eighth of a mile from here when that 'larm was sounded, and I rather think he will clear himself. Where are the policemen that the prisoner saw that night?"
"Fahrt wohl, ihr Strassen grad and krumm Ich zieh' nicht mehr in euch herum, Durchton euch nicht mehr mit Gesang, Mit Larm nicht mehr and Sporenklang." As the deep tones died away, the soft night was steeped in the sadness of that farewell song. It was Richter who brought the full force of it home to Stephen. "Do you recall the day you left your Harvard, and your Boston, my friend?" he asked.
Who is she?" wondered Biddy, and she went to report to the doctor. "Faith, sir, yer clerk says there is a tremenjus 'larm in town and it's about Woolen Mill Sophia, and here is the key, sir." "Woolen-mill what?" asked the doctor. "I am an owner up there." "Indade! It must be that Sophia works up there."
Sho' 'nuff, wid de fust light of de mawnin', de rebs come ridin' toward de light in de winder. I'd run out to de hill, not far away, ter see what would happen, an' it was so dark yet dat eb'ryting was mixed up wid shadders. When de rebs was a-comin' by de Linkum men in de woods a shot was fired. Den I s'pose de rebs tought it would gib de 'larm, fer dey began ter run dere hosses for'ard.
"Fahrt wohl, ihr Strassen grad and krumm Ich zieh' nicht mehr in euch herum, Durchton euch nicht mehr mit Gesang, Mit Larm nicht mehr and Sporenklang." As the deep tones died away, the soft night was steeped in the sadness of that farewell song. It was Richter who brought the full force of it home to Stephen. "Do you recall the day you left your Harvard, and your Boston, my friend?" he asked.
He ast me more or less questions, an' jest as we got to the house he says: "'Has your wife had any thin' to 'larm or shock her this evenin'? "'Nothin' 't I know on, I says, ''cept I bought her a new bunnit that didn't seem to come quite up to her idees. At that," remarked Mr. Harum, "he give me a funny look, an' we went in an' upstairs.
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