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Updated: May 24, 2025
"We want Captain McMasters, of the Polly Perkins. For God's sake, quick! There's that afoot must be caught up within the moment, do you hear!" The wherryman touched his cap and quickly made ready his boat.
If you send me to any orphan-asylum, I'll send you to some place where you'll be better off, too, sir." "Meanin'?" Peter Champneys shot at the stout vestryman a glance like the thrust of a golden spear. "The cemetery, Mr. McMasters," said he, with the deadly South Carolina gentleness. The two stared at each other. It wasn't the boy's glance that fell first. "Threatenin' me, hey?
They took the plates, hurried out, and soon returned with them; over the heap of snow the foreman poured several heaping spoonfuls of hot syrup which, to their surprise, cooled in an incredibly short time and stiffened into a sticky mass that looked like candy. "Now get one of those wooden skewers from the shelf and use it as a fork," McMasters said. The boys caught the idea at once.
Usually all this spells victory. Jack McMasters was the first trainer that I met. "Scottie," as every one affectionately called him, never asked a man to work for him any harder than he would work himself. In a former chapter you have read how Jack and I put in some hard work together. I recall a trip to Boston, where Princeton was to play Harvard.
Threatenin' a father of a family, are you?" Mr. McMasters licked his lips. "Oh, no, Mr. McMasters, I'm not threatening you, at all. I'm just telling you what'll happen." The vestryman reflected. He knew the Champneyses. They had all been men of their word. And fine marksmanship ran in the family.
When Peter thought of McMasters intriguing to take from him even this poor possession, his lips came together firmly. Somehow he would manage to keep the place. If his mother had been able to manage it, surely a man could do so, too! He hadn't the faintest doubt of his ability to take care of himself.
"He ain't got anything but wheeled vehicles in the barn, and not one of 'em will be a mite of use till April. I borrowed this turnout of the McMasters', who live a piece down the road; the foreman, you know. It was either this or a straight sledge, and we happened to be using the sledges collecting sap." "Are you sugaring off already?" questioned Bob with evident disappointment.
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