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Updated: June 13, 2025


There was always the chance of something turning up. Approaching the desk he inquired: "Mr. Quiller in?" "Busy!" growled the boy. With a gesture of his hand toward the others already waiting, he said insolently: "All them people is here before you." Actors and actresses, when they are recognized as human beings at all, are only "people" in managerial offices.

Both were breathing deeply and the sweat was trickling over their faces. Woodford looked at the infuriated men and seemed to reflect. Presently he turned to me, as the host turns to the honourable guest. "Quiller," he said, "these savages want to kill each other. We shall have to close the Olympic games. Let us say that you have won, and no tales told. Is it fair?" I stammered that it was fair.

He'd be an ungrateful little rogue if he didn't get on." "It's real kind of you to make me welcome," Mab said, with her cheek against the baby's head, "I don't know what I'd do if you didn't." "Ah! Poor dear! You must be lonesome now the gentleman's gone," said Mrs. Quiller commiseratingly. "Oh, no," said Mab lightly. "Not so very. I couldn't ask my cousin to give up all his time to me you know.

We want a field for the cattle, and corn and clover hay and plenty of bedding for the horses, and something hot for supper. We are all as hungry as Job's turkey." "One thing at a time, Quiller," said the man, spreading his hands. "Turn the cattle into the north boundary an' come along to the house."

Then she turned to me. "Which way did you come, Quiller?" she asked. "Over the bridge," said I. Now there was no other way to come, and the old carpet-weaver turned the counter with shrewd good-nature. "Maybe you know how the bridge got there," she said. "I've heard that the Dwarfs built it," said I, "but I reckon it's talk." "Well, it ain't talk," said the old woman.

"Danel," he said, "you talk like a meetin'-house. Old Christian cut that cable with a cold chisel, an' Black Malan or Peppers stole your boat. They have nothing against you. They wanted to stop us from crossin' with these cattle, an' I guess they've done it." Then he turned to me. The vapourings of the ferryman were of no importance. "Quiller," he said, "we're in the devil's own mess.

I tell you, Quiller, El Mahdi knowed about that bridge." Deep in my youthful bosom I was convinced that El Mahdi knew. But I put it wholly on the ground that he was a genius. We crossed the river, led the horses down to the end of the abutment, and tied them to a fence. Then we went back and examined the bridge as well as we could in the dark.

Besides, he would come to see me at any time if I really wanted him." "Ah!" Mrs. Quiller shook her head. "But it ain't the same. You wants a home of your own, my dear. That's what it is. What's become of t'other gentleman what used to be down here?" Mab almost laughed at the artlessness of this query. "Mr. Merefleet, you mean? I don't know. I guess he's making some more money."

"Damn 'em," muttered Jud, "I wonder what mare's nest they're fixin'. I ought to 'a twisted the old buck's neck." The hunchback leaned over his saddle and ran his fingers along the neck of the splendid mare. "Peace," he soliloquised, "is a purty thing." Then he turned to me with a bantering, quizzical light in his eyes. "Quiller," he said, "don't you wish you had your dollar back in your pocket?"

A man must have someone to work for, or he gets to the place where he doesn't care." He stopped before me with his face full in the light. "Quiller," he said, and the voice seemed to ring true, "I meant to prevent your getting north with these cattle. I hoped to stop you without being compelled to destroy this bridge, but you force me to make this move, and I shall make it.

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