Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 10, 2025
Toward morning, he revived and spoke to Rita and me like the dear old Jake we used to know. "Guess I got to pass in my checks, folks. I ain't been very good neither. But I ain't done nobody no harm as I can mind; nobody, but maybe Jake Meaghan. "Say, George! You like me, don't you?" "I like you for the real gentleman you are, Jake," I answered, laying my hand on his brow.
Rita's mood changed. "But, if you and Joe quarrel again, I'm going to run away. So there. "I'm not beholden to any one now, thanks to dear old Jake Meaghan. I can get money, all I want. Then maybe Joe'll be sorry. "You won't fight any more, George? Say you won't!" She put her arm round my shoulder and her cheek against mine, in her old coaxing way. Dear little woman!
I found you, lying unconscious, dead as I thought, out on the path, as I went for fresh water yesterday morning. "I brought you here. I did not know what had befallen you. I was afraid you had been set upon by the thieves who tried to rob Jake Meaghan; but from what you have just said, it was Superintendent Clark who attacked you." I nodded. "Was he not lying there beside me, dead?" I asked.
As I stood out on the cliffs, where old Jake Meaghan so often used to sit listening to Mary's music, she came to me; fairylike, white-robed, all tenderness, all softness and palpitating womanliness. "George, my George," she whispered, "I could not wait till morning either.
Meaghan noticed my interest in the phenomenon. "That's nothin'," he volunteered. "Mike has his drink with me every night, for the sake o' company. Why not? He doesn't see any fun in lookin' at the stars and watching the tide come up o' nights. Worst is, he can't stand up to liquor. It kind o' gets his goat; yet he's been tipplin' for three years now." Jake finished off his cup of whisky.
I had been not a little curious regarding this place and I was still wondering where it was intended that I should take up my quarters. Jake Meaghan seemed all right in his own Klondikish, pork-and-beans-and-a-blanket way, but I hardly fancied him as a rooming partner and a possible bedfellow.
I see to that every time I come west." He put his hand on my shoulder. "George, boy, no one but myself and Eileen has slept under this roof since my wife died, but I want you to make it your home." I turned to remonstrate. "Now, don't say a word," he hurried on. "You can't bluff me with your self-defamatory remarks. You are not a Jake Meaghan, or one of his stamp.
Already, I was beginning to think that Mr. K. B. Horsfal had erred in regard to his man and that it was Jake Meaghan who was twenty-four carat gold. If any man ever did deserve two breakfast cups brimful of whisky, neat, before turning in, it was old, walrus-moustached, weather-battered, baby-eyed, sour-dough Jake, in the small, early hours of that Sabbath morning.
It looked up at him as he drank, then it put its two front paws on Jake's knees, as if to attract his attention. Meaghan stopped his imbibing and stroked the dog's head. "Well, well Mike; and did I forget you?" He poured a little liquor in a saucer and set it down on the floor before the dog, who lapped it up with all the relish of a seasoned toper.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking