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Updated: May 3, 2025
Many murders were committed on his line of march, and this one had lost his horses, that one had his house plundered; this town had been sacked, and in some instances burned, and so on. "Gen. Anderson made his march as rapidly as he could with raw men and horses. He finally struck Morganson's rear and forced him to make a stand. Gen.
The next he knew he was sitting by the stove on a box, and it seemed as though ages had passed. A tall, broad-shouldered, black-whiskered man was paying for drinks. Morganson's swimming eyes saw him drawing a greenback from a fat roll, and Morganson's swimming eyes cleared on the instant. They were hundred-dollar bills. It was life! His life!
"I did the chopping before the scurvy got bad," he said. "Then I got a moose right at the start. I've been living high all right. It's the scurvy that's run me down." He filled the glass, and added, "But the spruce tea's knocking it, I think." "Have another," the barkeeper said. The action of the two glasses of whisky on Morganson's empty stomach and weak condition was rapid.
Had Oan wisdom, he might have eaten thereof; and had a mammoth fallen into our pit, he might have feasted many days. But Oan was a fool! Un: Oan was a fool! All the Tribe: Oan was a fool! It was the last of Morganson's bacon. In all his life he had never pampered his stomach. In fact, his stomach had been a sort of negligible quantity that bothered him little, and about which he thought less.
The giant was grotesquely curving and twisting and running at top speed along the trail, the tail of his parka flapping smartly behind. Morganson trained his rifle on the man and with a swaying action followed his erratic flight. Morganson's finger was getting numb. He could scarcely feel the trigger. "God help me," he breathed a prayer aloud, and pulled the trigger.
Wall knew all about Morganson's raid, but not about his failure and capture. Peter learned that on his way home from the Detroit papers.
The soup grew thinner and thinner as he cracked the bones and boiled them over and over; but the hot water with the essence of the meat in it was good for him, and he was more vigorous than he had been previous to the shooting of the moose. It was in the next week that a new factor entered into Morganson's life. He wanted to know the date. It became an obsession.
As he crouched and waited, it came to him that he had forgotten to drink his spruce tea. The only other thought in his mind was the possibility of John Thompson changing his mind and not travelling Christmas Day. Dawn broke and merged into day. It was cold and clear. Sixty below zero was Morganson's estimate of the frost. Not a breath stirred the chill Arctic quiet.
"Peter said: 'Ham will not have quite the trouble that we have all had heretofore since Forrester's command has been depleted by Morganson's capture. "'No, replied the General; 'he will only need to watch one of them now. The conversation then turned on Peter's trip into Canada. "I inquired if he saw Mr. and Mrs. Whitcomb.
He collected men and material as he went. He also aroused the people to action everywhere. Morganson's force was being recruited from the Golden Circle as he passed through the country. "That community was never so thoroughly excited before.
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