United States or Grenada ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
The drawing of the numbers in the raffle was about to be made. Hartrath, in a flurry of agitation, excused himself. Cedarquist took Presley by the arm. "Pres, let's get out of this," he said. "Come into the wine room and I will shake you for a glass of sherry." They had some difficulty in extricating themselves. The main room where the drawing was to take place suddenly became densely thronged.
In his bell-like, rumbling voice, he was calling to his foreman and a boy at work in stringing the poles together. At sight of Presley and Vanamee he hailed them jovially, addressing them as "boys," and insisting that they should get into the wagon with him and drive to the house for a glass of beer.
A tornado of confusion swept whirling from wall to wall and the madness of the moment seized irresistibly upon Presley. He forgot himself; he no longer was master of his emotions or his impulses.
Presley, his senses never more alive, observed that, curiously enough, Shelgrim did not move his body.
Presley, the men who own the railroad are wicked, bad-hearted men who don't care how much the poor people suffer, so long as the road makes its eighteen million a year. They don't care whether the people hate them or love them, just so long as they are afraid of them. It's not right and God will punish them sooner or later."
Dyke himself was a heavy built, well-looking fellow, nearly twice the weight of Presley, with great shoulders and massive, hairy arms, and a tremendous, rumbling voice. "Hello, old man," answered Presley, coming up to the engine. "What are you doing about here at this time of day? I thought you were on the night service this month." "We've changed about a bit," answered the other.
Presley withdrew, leading the buckskin and the horses that Gethings and Cutter had ridden. He fastened them under the great live oak and then came out and stood in the road in front of the house to watch what was going on. In the ditch, shoulder deep, the Leaguers, ready, watchful, waited in silence, their eyes fixed on the white shimmer of the road leading to Guadalajara.
But the moment the noise of the engine lapsed, Presley about to start forward again was conscious of a confusion of lamentable sounds that rose into the night from out the engine's wake. Prolonged cries of agony, sobbing wails of infinite pain, heart-rending, pitiful. The noises came from a little distance.
"We are going away," she told Presley, as the two sat down at opposite ends of the dining table. "Just Magnus and myself all there is left of us. There is very little money left; Magnus can hardly take care of himself, to say nothing of me. I must look after him now. We are going to Marysville." "Why there?" "You see," she explained, "it happens that my old place is vacant in the Seminary there.
I am going to take a long ocean voyage. My ship sails in a few days. But you, Mrs. Annixter, what are you going to do? Is there any way I can serve you?" "No," she answered, "nothing. Papa is doing well. We are living here now." "You are well?" She made a little helpless gesture with both her hands, smiling very sadly. "As you see," she answered. As he talked, Presley was looking at her intently.
Word Of The Day