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Updated: June 12, 2025
"Orrick!... What what has this fellow got against you?" Varney did not answer. The name had started remote memories to working, and, very slowly, returning comprehension advanced to meet them. He and old Orrick had been standing together on a woodland road. They were hunting for something. An 1812 penny and valuable. That was it.
"What next? what d'ye want to do?" inquired Rodney. "Do," cried Orrick, "I mean to get hold o' that packet if I can, by fair means or by foul, that's wot I mean to do, and I mean that you shall help me!" The reader may imagine what were the feelings of the poor old man as he sat in the dark corner of the cave listening to this circumstantial relation of his most secret affairs.
Arter that he takes to prayin', an', d'ye know, the way that old feller prays is a caution. The parsons couldn't hold a candle to him. Not that I ever heer'd ony of 'em, but I s'pose they couldn't! "Well, he was cut short in the middle by the arrival of the puppy ." "Wot puppy?" inquired Rodney. "Guy, to be sure; ain't he the biggest puppy in Deal?" said Orrick.
First story: "The Sorrows of Mr. Harlcomb," published in the Smart Set about 1916. At present occupied with writing a novel. Lives in Philadelphia, Pa. Lowden Household. Two Gentlemen of Caracas. Beauty. #Johns, Orrick.# Big Frog. *Princess of Tork. Educated at Washburn College, Topeka, and University of Michigan. Has been engaged in railroad and newspaper work.
I'd content myself with knocking out both his daylights for his cowardly attempt to badger an old man, but that wouldn't be safe; besides, I know'd well enough he'd take to smugglin' again, an' soon give us a chance to nab him at his old tricks; so Coleman and I have been keepin' a look-out on him; and we've found that small yard o' pump-water, Peekins, oncommon clever in the way o' watchin'. He's just brought me word that he heard Long Orrick talkin' with his chum Rodney Nick, an' plannin' to run their lugger to-night into Pegwell Bay, as the coast at the Fiddler's Cave would be too well watched; so I'm goin' down to Fiddler's Cave to-night, and I wants you to go with me.
The young man was up with him directly, and his vague impression of recognition suddenly became fitted to a name. "Orrick?" The bowed form straightened and turned. Through the thickening twilight the two men looked at each other. "You were not by any chance waiting for me?" The darkness hid old Orrick's eyes; he shook his head slowly a number of times.
In this way several kegs of brandy, boxes of cigars, and bundles of tobacco were landed and conveyed to the cavern by Coleman, who refused to allow Bax to act as an assistant, fearing that his great size might betray him. On the fifth or sixth trip he found Long Orrick waiting for him somewhat impatiently. "You might have brought a hand with ye, man," said the latter, testily.
We'll get Coleman to help us, for he's savage to get hold of Long Orrick ever since the night they put him in a sack, an' left him to air his timbers in the Great Chapel Field."
He muttered to himself as he went on with his work, occasionally pausing to glance towards the door, the upper half of which was open and revealed the dark storm raging without. On one of these occasions old Jeph's eyes encountered those of a man gazing in upon him. "Is that you, Long Orrick? Come in; it's a cold night to stand out i' the gale."
At the back of the cottage they found Coleman calmly observing the proceedings of the smugglers, one of whom was calling in a hoarse whisper through the keyhole. Apparently he received no reply, for he swore angrily a good deal, and said to his comrades more than once, "I do b'lieve the old sinner's dead." "Come, I'll burst in the door," said the voice of Long Orrick, savagely.
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