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At St. Avold we began to lose the French language, and from this my fluency was reduced to signs, or at most to a very laconic speech "Ich Englander, Ich woll haben Brod mitt Café," &c. At Dendrich, a little village near Forbach, we crossed the new line of demarcation between France and Austria, and found the towns chiefly occupied by Bavarians.

Near him lay sprawled upon the floor a soldier in a gray uniform, also dead. A little bullet wound in his temple told the tale. Beside him was a black helmet with heavy brass chin gear. Archer picked it up with trembling hands. Across its front was a motto: "Mitt Gott und Vaterland." The middle of it was obscured by the flaring German coat-of-arms.

Say, you certainly know something, Lucien, sometimes. So, Miss Whimple don't get married, and it's the icy mitt for anybody that asked her; and plenty did." "She's a funny old " "You say a word about her, Lucien Torrance, that ain't nice, and I'll knock the head off'n you. She's she's well, there ain't another like her except Ma." "I wasn't going to say anything " began Lucien.

The first, with a dextrous slash of a sharp knife splits the fish down the back, and throws it to the "gibber," who, with a twist of his thumb armed with a mitt extracts the entrails and throws the fish into a barrel of brine. By long practise the men become exceedingly expert in the work, and rivalry among the gangs keeps the pace of all up to the highest possible point.

I'll bring my first baseman's glove. Silvey'll find his catcher's mitt. Beat you home! Beat you home!" They were off. Down the cement sidewalk they darted, their quick breaths showing ever so slightly in the crisp air. John stamped up the steps and into the front hall. "Mother!" he called. "Mother!" "Yes, son?" came the voice from the big second floor sewing room. "Where's my baseball glove?"

Rod pitched two balls which Copley disdained, and then he fooled the fellow once more with a drop. "Two strikes!" shouted the umpire. "You've got him, Roddy you've got him cold!" cried Cooper suddenly. "Don't forget we're all behind you. Take his scalp, you old Injun hunter of the Staked Plains." High and close to Copley's chin the ball whistled into Eliot's mitt.

It seemed that the Fatherland was becoming Commercially Supreme and of the greatest Military Importance because every Fritz kept himself saturated with the Essence of Munich. He could see on the Post-Cards that each loyal subject of Wilhelm was plump and rosy, with Apple Cheeks and a well-defined Awning just below the Floating Ribs, and a Krug of dark Suds clutched in the right Mitt.

When the dust cleared and the howls had subsided it was found that Dalzell had loped in across the home plate, Darrin had come along more swiftly and was in, while Hutchins touched the second base an instant after the ball had nestled in Greg Holmes's Army mitt. It mattered little that Earl, who came next to bat, struck out. The Navy had pulled in two runs -the only runs scored so far!

"There's a five hundred dollar bill to start with," he rattled, stripping off the first that fell to his fingers "and here's a hundred no, here's another five instead." "In the mitt," the chauffeur stipulated simply, extending his palm. "Either you're crazy or I am but in the mitt, friend, and I'll run the car right into that garage, 'f you say so." "Nothing so foolish as that."

"Well " For the moment Don wasn't interested in baseball. "How about Monday?" Monday, it appeared, would be all right. Tim put on his coat and walked toward the door. "You're forgetting your mitt," Don called. "I'm not going to the field," said Tim. There was something peculiar in the way he said it. Don looked inquiringly at Andy. The assistant patrol leader nodded toward the window.