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Updated: June 15, 2025
Then he looked up, not at me, but as if somebody else was standin' there on t'other side of the cabin table. 'Forgive him! he says, kind of slow and under his breath. 'I won't forgive his black soul in hell. When I heard him say it I give you my word my hair riz under my cap. If ever there was killin' in a man's voice and in his looks 'twas in Cap'n Lote's that night.
Just 'cause you're Cap'n Lote's grandson I presume likely you think you can talk any kind of talk, don't ye?" "Not any kind, Is. I can't talk like you. Will you teach me?" "Shut up! Now, by Crimus, you you furriner you Speranzy " Mr. Keeler appeared at the office window. His shrill voice rose pipingly in the wintry air as he demanded to know what was the trouble out there. Mr.
"Why why should he want to see you, Zelotes? And the boy why why, that's HER boy. It's Janie's boy he must mean, Zelotes." Her husband nodded. "Hers and that blasted furriner's," he muttered. "I suppose so." "Oh, DON'T speak that way, Zelotes! Don't! He's dead." Captain Lote's lips tightened. "If he'd died twenty years ago 'twould have been better for all hands," he growled.
Albert stood very straight, his shoulders braced for the encounter. The quizzical twinkle shone in Captain Lote's eye as he regarded his grandson. Fosdick also smiled momentarily as he caught the expression of the youth's face.
The boy, his foot upon the buggy step, still hesitated. "Then you're you're not my grandfather?" he faltered. "Eh? Who? Your grandfather? Me? He, he, he!" He chuckled shrilly. "No, no! No such luck. If I was Cap'n Lote Snow, I'd be some older'n I be now and a dum sight richer. Yes, yes. No, I'm Cap'n Lote's bookkeeper over at the lumber consarn.
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