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Updated: June 12, 2025
"We've been wasting our time, all these years, with our petty monopolies of beef and coal and transportation and all such trifles!" "So?" And Waldron drew from his pocket a gold cigar-case, monogrammed with diamonds. "Trifles, eh?" He carefully chose a perfecto. "Perhaps; but we've managed to rub along, eh? Well, if these are trifles, what's on?" "Air!" "Air?"
Not that he's one of these human sausage machines; but he has a good hearty Down East appetite and a habit of attendin' strictly to business at mealtime. But when he's finished off with a section of deep-dish apple pie and a big cup of coffee he sighs satisfied, unhooks the napkin, lights up a perfecto I've ordered for him, and resumes where he left off. "It's a heap of money ain't it?" says he.
But the one time I did have use for my arsenal made up for lost time." "Tell us about it, please," chorused the boys, and Mr. Melton smiled at their eagerness as he lit another perfecto. "Well," he began, "it was back in the old days before the time of the railroads, when stage coaches were the only carriers known.
"He has roughed it," returned the other reassuringly, "and that means more than years." The first man laughed rather unpleasantly, and emptied his glass. "So I have discovered. Have a cigar, or a drink, Craig?" "I will smoke." He passed me the box, watching me while I lighted the perfecto, Neale crossing to the divan. "How old are you?" "Twenty-four." "I thought about that.
The fellow thought he was afraid to drink the mixture. But what did it matter what the fellow thought? "Perhaps, then, you will have a cigar, and sit down comfortably for our chat?" Shaw himself set the example by dropping into one of the easy-chairs and lighting a fat Perfecto. His smooth brown head rested in what seemed an accustomed hollow of the chair back.
Settin' that time-lock jaw of his and lightin' a fresh perfecto, Old Hickory grabs his hat; and off we go, with me trailin' along reluctant. His first move is to hail a taxi. "Just goin' to cruise around town casual in the hopes of spottin' him on the fly, eh?" I asks. "Hardly," says Mr. Ellins.
Merely this: that I most earnestly desire and crave a Carbajal perfecto and a match." "Paul, you say eat " "Most probably they are cannibals. The Lord knows they must have some sort of mild amusement in this fearful hole. Of course, the idea is distasteful; before they cut us up they'll have to knock us down." "That's a darned silly joke," said Harry with some heat. "But it's sober truth, my boy.
He owes me something like fifty pounds, and I am going to collect it." Then he went out. The consul-general dropped Mallow's perfecto into the waste-basket and lighted his pipe. Once more he read the cablegram. The Andes Construction Company. What a twist, what an absurd kink in the skein!
I'd have bet a million dollars against a perfecto cigar that I could drive a ball farther than a 125-pound girl, even if she is my daughter." "We will call our bet off, Mr. Harding," I suggested, satisfied that we had tumbled him from the pedestal reared by his conceit. "We'll call nothing off," he promptly declared.
"Do you feel a slight palpitation of the membrane of the Colorado madura and is there a confused murmur in your brain like the sound of a hard working gas meter?" "You've got me sized good and plenty, Doc!" "Do you have insomnia, nightmare, loss of appetite, chills and fever and concealed respiration in the carolina perfecto?" "That's the idea, Doc."
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