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I've got no money for that sort of thing myself." "Yes, of course," was Peterson's quick reply. "A fellow doesn't want to run them kind o' chances. I don't believe in it myself." "The fact's this, and this is just between you and me, mind you; I don't know anything about it, it's only what I think, somebody's buying a lot of December wheat, or the price wouldn't keep going up.
"No, we won't," they promised in angelic tones, and the woman left them, still perplexed and somewhat ill at ease. Fearing that some mischief was on foot she cut short her bargain-hunting tour in Peterson's store and hurried back to her charges, only to find them sitting silent and erect on the seat where she had left them, busy watching the bustling crowds in the streets.
Grey standing beside the bed, on which, doubtless, lay some sufferer. Ere many moments had elapsed, she heard his well-known footstep on the rocky road, and involuntarily paused to greet him. "What called you to old Mrs. Peterson's?" "Her youngest grandchild is very ill with brain fever; so ill that I shall return and sit up with him to-night."
I never admit of this in any expedition where I am commander; and so I convinced the man, to his sorrow, that I could do without him, for I paid him what I had agreed to give him, which amounted to eight dollars, and ordered him back in his own curial to Mrs. Peterson's, on the hill at the first falls.
He knew the direction, for had he not listened time and time again to the conversations in the store? The talk had often turned upon Rodgers & Peterson's big lumbering operations in Big Creek Valley. Yes, he was sure he could find the place. Up the river to Rocky Point, from thence along a big cove, then over a hill and down into a valley.
Kit's actions later could be plausibly accounted for, too. How she must have wished that she'd taken time to lock his door on the outside! As it was, she couldn't have been sure that an alarm would not be given downstairs. Her one thought must have been haste; and Clo doubted that, if she had forgotten her key in Peterson's room, she would have ventured back to get it.
"It's the Belt Line that crosses the bridge, is it?" "Yes." Bannon spread his legs apart and drummed on the front of his chair. "What's the other line?" he asked "the four track line?" "That's the C. & S. C. We don't have nothing to do with them." They were both silent for a time. The flush had not left Peterson's face.
Soon after Principal Peterson's appointment two projects for which his predecessor, Sir William Dawson, had planned were carried to completion. Both of these were made possible by the loyal aid of two benefactors who had already contributed greatly to the expansion of the University.
She had hoped not to go back to the room of the dead man. She had searched it from end to end. But now she knew the thing would have to be done. Already the jet and steel bag hung by its ribbons over her arm. Clo switched off the electricity, and let herself out into the hall. Before she had finished her count of sixty seconds she was once more locked in Peterson's room.
The night boss saw by this time that Grady meant business, that his speech was preliminary to something more emphatic, and he knew that he ought to stop it before the laborers should be demoralized. "You can't do that here, Mister," said Max, over Peterson's shoulder, indicating the cigar. Grady still held the match, and looked impudently across the tip of his cigar. Peterson took it up at once.
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