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When the day comes there'll be a hantle o' factors on the left hand o' the throne, and I shouldna be surprised if Maister McNeil found himsel' amang them. Weel, on the morn I gaed up to the office and there I foond the factor and a lang, thin, dour man wi' grey hair and a face as brown and crinkled as a walnut.
Not the McNeil that has had the fortune left him lately, and is considered such a great catch?" "Yes, he has had a fortune left him; as for being a great catch" and the shrug of her shoulders finished her answer. "Well, I don't think he will have to force his attentions on the rest of the young ladies around Halifax by the aid of a revolver anyway, if all they say of the young man is true.
McNeil? We were together all the way from the house, you know, and we had such a delightful walk. You wouldn't truly mind yielding up your claim for just this once, would you?" Moffat did not reply, simply because he could not; he was struck dumb, gasping for breath, the room whirling around before him, while he stared at her with dazed, unseeing eyes.
McNeil eyed him calmly, as he might eye a chained bear, his lips parted in a genial smile. "I eh ain't no great shakes of an eh orator," he began, apologetically, waving one hand toward his gasping rival, "like Mr. eh Moffat. I can't sling words round eh reckless, like the eh gent what just had the floor, ner eh spout poetry, but I reckon eh I kin git out eh 'bout what I got to say. Mr.
When he has eaten up all that is yours and your kin with it?" "Perhaps," Assha repeated. "I do not think Lurgha will come so again." She shrugged, and the heavy cloak flapped. "That shall be as it shall be, Assha. Now go, for it is not good that any man come hither." Cassca paced back into the heart of the green tunnel, and Ross and McNeil came out of concealment.
After fifteen minutes a cavity yawned in the cellar wall, disclosing a passage leading to the left. "That will do, McNeil," said the Colonel. "That's enough for the purpose. Go ahead, boys. It was through your efforts that the tunnel was located, so it is for you to see this out." "Win shall be first," said Max. "Step in, old fellow."
A treaty with the nation of Winnebago Indians, concluded on the 1st of August, 1829, at Prairie du Chien, in the Territory of Michigan, between General John McNeil, Colonel Pierre Menard, and Caleb At-water, esq., commissioners on the part of the United States, and certain chiefs and warriors on the part of the nation of Winnebago Indians.
McNeil gathered them from behind the fur curtain fronting their half-finished cabin. Again the bird called, its cry piercing and covering a long distance. Ross could understand why a careless man would select it for the signal. He crossed the clearing to the donkeys' shelter, slashing through their nose halters.
After breakfasting on flat cakes of meal, they packed the donkeys, using the same knots and cross lashing which were the mark of real Beaker traders. Their bows protected from dampness under their cloaks, they set out to find the river and their path southward. Ashe led, Ross towed the donkeys, and McNeil brought up the rear.
The Bishops of Chester and New South Wales, dressed in a kind of long tunics, with black breeches and silk stockings, insomuch that I first fancied they were Catholics. Also Dr. McNeil, in a stiff-collared coat, looking more like a general than a divine.
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