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Updated: June 9, 2025
That night toward ten he and McCrea were spinning away up the west shore under the lofty, rock-ribbed scarp of Crow Nest and Storm King, to ferry over to Fishkill from Newburg, and there take the Pacific express, making its first stop out of New York City. Each had hurriedly packed such store of clothing as seemed most appropriate to the region and the business to which he was bound.
That Breifogle the younger had been sent to Denver to watch for the coming of Dr. Graham, McCrea, or others of the officers, all of whom he knew by sight and name, there was every reason to believe; but that Nolan should take part in or countenance the mobbing of the Breifogles, or any others of the mine-owners, was abhorrent, if not impossible.
It was with a perfectly immense relief that he snatched at the chance to buy the McCrea house, and by so doing make the permanency of his way of life a little more secure. He could keep what he had, anyway. And he could show the world, and Rose, that he wasn't the broken frantic creature he knew she'd seen, and suspected it had glimpsed. John Williamson's explanation wasn't altogether wrong.
Trout took her same speakers and went to Lake Geneva, where meetings with speaking from automobiles were held under the auspices of Mrs. Willis S. McCrea, who entertained the suffragists in her spacious summer home. In the autumn at her house on Lincoln Parkway Mrs. McCrea organized the North Side Branch of the State association, afterwards renamed the Chicago Equal Suffrage Association.
Get me permission to ride on any freight-engine, Mountain Division, for the next three days, and I'm off for the mines before we're half a day older, and no man here or there the wiser." "They'd spot you as you went through Argenta," said McCrea. "Breifogle will be watching every train."
Now for the moment Geordie longed for the presence of McCrea, who had remained in Denver in hopes of bringing local officials to their senses and his terms. And McCrea, for his part, was at the same moment wishing to Heaven he had followed Geordie's lead and pushed ahead for the field of battle.
"I was anxious to see how you looked this morning," smiled Mr. Mayhew, as the two naval officers rose. "How do you feel? Thoroughly clear-headed and steady?" "We feel fine, sir," Jack answered. "They look in the pink of condition," agreed Doctor McCrea. "If you don't feel wholly up to the mark," urged Mr. Mayhew, "say so.
That was the value set on a really great man's life. It makes one wonder at what rate ours would be appraised in Eskimo land. It was Christmas Eve, and Malcolm McCrea, just back from the woods, was throwing down some frozen seal meat from the scaffold for his hungry dogs after their long day's hauling.
He was transferred to the northern frontier then the seat of active operations and soon distinguished himself amid that immortal band, all of whom now sleep with their fathers Miller, Brook, Jessup, McCrea, Appling, Gaines, and Twiggs. Cumming, Appling, and Twiggs were Georgians. At the battle of Lundy's Lane he was severely wounded and borne from the field.
So I still had the striped pole when we rolled up at McCrea's hotel. I was shiftin' it around in the taxi, wonderin' where I'd better dump it, when I made the big discovery. "Say," I whispers husky to McCrea, "there's something funny about this." "The pole?" says he. "Uh-huh!" says I. "It's hollow. There's a little trap door in one side." "Hah!" says McCrea. "Bring it up."
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