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Updated: May 14, 2025
"For larson," said Bill Day, hardly able to restrain another whoop. "No, 'taint larson," said Bob Short, looking wiser than a chief-justice, "it's arsony. Now I say, don't let's go to penitentiary for no no larson no arsony, I mean." "Ha oop!" said Bill. "Let's do somethin' ludikerous. Hurrah for arsony and larson! Dog-on the penitentiary! Ha oop!"
She left a note on the hall table, which the infuriated Chester Hunt was to find after a morning spent in frantic pushing of the bell in his bedroom and vain bellowings over the bannisters for Josie Larson. It was only after supreme effort that he could get out of bed, but once he got on his feet it was not so difficult to walk. "Josie! Josie!" he yelled. "Where are you?
Why the cadets, of course! They looked like flies, or specks. Dick was ready to laugh. On a level keel they now darted ahead at greater speed as Lieutenant Larson turned on more gasolene. Then, when Dick had become a little used to the novel sensation, they showed him how to work the different levers. The motor was controlled by spark and gasolene exactly as is an automobile.
The next thing Wentworth knew, Sven Larson was bending over him, bathing his face with a large red handkerchief saturated with cold water. "What in hell happened?" muttered the man, as he brushed clumsily at his fast discoloring eye with his hand. With the help of the factor's clerk he sat up. "You hit me! Damn you! What did you hit me for?" "I am sorry I hit you," answered Hedin heavily.
The Hollys had just finished breakfast when Higgins, the coroner, drove into the yard accompanied by William Streeter, the town's most prominent farmer, and the most miserly one, if report was to be credited. "Well, could you get anything out of the boy?" demanded Higgins, without ceremony, as Simeon Holly and Larson appeared on the kitchen porch. "Very little.
"Looky yer, Jeems; ef you say anythin' agin Ann Marier, I'll commit the wust larson on you you ever seed." "I didn't say nothin' agin Ann Marier," squeaked Jim. "I was talkin' agin the Dutch." "Well, that'sh all right Ha oop! Boys, let's do somethin', larson or arsony or somethin'."
It would not answer, however, and after trying in vain to get more speed out of the craft, Larson was obliged to use one of the two allowed descents, and go down to readjust the motor. Then when a couple of days had elapsed, though of course this time was not counted any more than in the case of Dick, another start was made.
At least he was not in the barn, the shed, the kitchen bedroom, nor anywhere else that Larson looked; and the man was just coming back with a crestfallen, perplexed frown, when Mrs. Holly hurried out on to the porch. "Mr.
Then on once more upstream, which now began to broaden into placid lakelets, thereby lessening the current and giving them a chance to make more rapid headway. At four o'clock they reached the forks of the stream one flowed towards them from the north, the other from the west. "Which way?" asked Larson, rousing the Chippewa.
But before she so much as reached the foot of the stairs a neighbor woman came running in, wiping her eyes with her shawl-end and saying, "Poor Sheila died this minute over t' the hospital!" I can't tell it as Terry told it, and I don't know whether he himself believed in it or not, but the huge bulk of Olie Larson sat there bathed in a fine sweat, with his eyes fixed on the stove front.
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