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Updated: October 15, 2025
"Yes, sir. And he's fought half his fracases under you, sir." "Your point, Paul?" the marshal said crisply. "He knows your methods, sir. For that matter, so does Lieutenant General McCord. He's fought you enough." There was silence in the staff headquarters, broken suddenly by Cogswell's curt chuckle.
They were not slow in bandying remarks among themselves. "Fast! Who's that red-head? Is this your dub team? Get in the game, boys!" They began to think more of playing ball and less of their own superiority. Graves, however, and McCord following him, went out upon plays to the infield. As Ken walked out toward the pitcher's box Homans put a hand on his arm, and said: "Kid, put them all over.
The McCord case stood out like a cabalistic sign upon a gate-post telling all the rascals who passed that way that the city was full of honest folk waiting to be turned into rogues and "trimmed." "And presently we did pass a narrow lane, and at the mouth espied a written stone, telling beggars by a word like a wee pitchfork to go that way."
Now then, if McCord continues to move his forces here, across our modern day Rappahannock, he makes the initial mistake that finally led to the opening which allowed Jackson's brilliant fifteen-mile flanking march. Any questions, thus far?" There were some murmurs, no questions. The accumulated years of military service of this group of veterans would have totaled into the hundreds.
Weir and McCord occupied the room next to Ken's, and Graves and Trace, rooming together, were also on that floor. Ken had tried with all his might to feel friendly toward the third-baseman. He had caught Graves carrying cake and pie to his room and smoking cigarettes with the window open.
And he's a bully little scout. Scout pace and good turns, those are his specialties. He just stalks hop-toads on the side. Late that night Mr. Ellsworth came back. The bus brought him up from Catskill. I didn't see him, but early in the morning on my way over to wait for the mail, I met Vic Norris and Hunt Ward of the Elks. Vic Norris said, "This'll be the end of Camp McCord. Mr.
"And I'll I'll have a trail named after me, too; it'll be called McCord trail. These are my tracks, see? Because I found them. Only maybe they'll say I'm lying. Anyway, how did you happen to come here?" he asked as if in sudden fear. "I was just taking a walk through the woods, Skinny."
Also he would arrange a sign with Reddy and Raymond and McCord so they would know when he intended to pitch speed on the outside corner of the plate. For both his curve and fast ball so pitched were invariably hit toward right field. When it came to MacNeff, Ken knew from the hot rankling deep down in him that he would foil that hitter.
We venture to suggest that it might be Well for the Legislature to alter the rule laid down in McCord vs. People." Livingston was turned loose upon the community in spite of the fact that he had swindled a man out of $500 because he had incidentally led the latter to believe that in return he was to receive counterfeit money or "green goods," which might be put into circulation.
He must have been caught all of a bunch, eh?" Again McCord failed to answer. I looked up, mildly surprised, and found his head hanging back over his chair and his mouth opened wide. He was asleep. By MARY SYNON From Scribner's Magazine Copyright, 1915, by Charles Scribner's Sons. Copyright, 1916, by Mary Synon.
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