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Sit down here, and tell me the story, for 'with thee conversing, I forget all time." "Well, Minister," said Mr. Slick, "I'll tell you the ins and outs of it; and a droll story it is too. Miss Lot was the darter of Enoch Mosher, the rich miser of Goshen; as beautiful a little critter too, as ever slept in shoe-leather.
Then at a signal, seven arms loosed a shower of missiles at the startled trio of leaders. A cucumber caught Skinny Mosher squarely below his ear. Another left a moist spot on one of Silvey's oft darned stockings. A third missile found another mark on the now bewildered Mosher. Red Brown advanced upon him. "Surrender!" he yelled.
Skinny Mosher dropped the sphere as if it were a hot coal. "Go easy," he cautioned. "Sid hasn't brought my glove yet." The elder Harrison boy who aspired to fill Joe Menard's place, ran over to the pitcher's box, and the tossing was resumed. From third to first, second to pitcher, and then to Silvey, and back again. Muscles became limbered and arms more certain of their mark.
"Oh, yes, you will, and right now, or " "No!" "See here!" Mosher held a hard, horny fist menacing before Dick's face, but the high school boy failed to wince. "Git! Now, or crawl later!" warned Mosher. "I'm going to make you listen to " "Put up your guard!" At least Mosher was "square" enough to give warning of his intentions. He threw himself on guard, then waited for perhaps five seconds.
But I deserve all I've got, Uncle Jim. I was a scoundrel; and after all your kindness two years back, too." "But what were you coming up here for?" asked the trapper. "Why, Mosher, the grocery man, said some letters had come in his care for you and these youngsters that were at your place.
Even in the darkness, lit only here and there by starlight, the scowl on his face was visible. "Tell you what," declared Mosher, an instant later. "Well?" "Beat it!" "I don't under " "Yes, you do," retorted the self-styled Mosher. "Vamoose! Twenty-three in a hurry! Make your get-away!" "Until I've made you listen to reason," Prescott insisted, "I won't leave you."
"To-morrow at noon, little one?" "I I sleep till three." "And it couldn't 'a' been me!" "Little Jingle Bells?" "Why, y-yes, I I'm on." At three o'clock on Wednesday afternoon, in a magistrate's office, beneath a framed engraving of a judicial court in wigged session, Herman Schulien Loeb and Sadie Helen Mosher became as one.
"I know I'm bad, and I know I'm tough, but I never had these things on my hands before. Take 'em off, won't you? Please!" Such submission was tame, indeed. Deputy Valden, who had never seen young Mosher before glanced sharply at young Prescott. "This fellow doesn't seem much like the hardened criminal I've been told about," remarked the officer.
So Darry and Greg Holmes assisted young Mosher to his feet. Dave took hold of Tag's arm, though the latter did not resist, but walked along like one in a dream. "Want any help, Dick?" asked Greg. "I believe I wouldn't object to having a friendly arm to lean on," Prescott replied. "I've been standing here so long that my hip is stiff again."
"Describe him to me -minutely!" ordered the father. Dick fell into a personal description of Tag Mosher. Others, as they now watched Mr. The description, as to complexion, features, hair and eyes, all tallied closely with Mr. "Now, don't keep me in suspense any longer," begged Mr. "Take me to him, that I may help decide for myself."
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