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Updated: May 16, 2025
My next brother is now Ranger, and could meet you at the statues with permit and luncheon, and more of that white wine than ever you will be able to drink. Only let me know what you will do.
"I often wished to encounter a gale of wind," observed Peter Patch to Willy; "but, to confess the honest truth, now I know what it is, especially in these cold regions, I would rather have been excused." The "Ranger" had been running on for another night. Though the wind had fallen, there was too much sea to attempt rigging jury-masts, or heaving her to.
With the pup and the new battery he felt that he should indeed be in position to render efficient service to his forester and his ranger, both of whom he was coming to love, and to the grand old forest around him. An Accident in the Wilderness As though she also were pleased at Charley's good fortune, Dame Nature smiled her best in the days that immediately followed.
I have been ranger since I was twenty-two, and I don't yet know whether that means cutting down." "Not only cutting down, but rooting up," said Mr. Fothergill. "It's a murderous shame," said Frank Gresham; "and I will say one thing, I don't think any but a Whig government would do it." "Ha, ha, ha!" laughed his grace.
The ranger bent forward to peer hard at this night visitor. His manner had been alert, and now it became tense. "Come here, one of you men, quick," he called, without turning in the least toward the camp-fire. "Hello! What's up, Pickens?" came the swift reply. It was followed by a rapid thud of boots on soft ground. A dark form crossed the gleams from the fire-light.
The result was that the commissioners were forced to sell the ship to France, to keep her out of the hands of England, and Jones was compelled to make his invasion in the Ranger.
Such a soft, sweet song; full of delightful suggestion on such a night: Tonk tank tenk tink Ta tink a tonk a tank a tink a Ta ta tink tank ta ta tonk tink Drink a tank a drink a drunk. It was the 'water-dripping' song of the saw-whet owl. But suddenly a deep raucous breathing and a rustle of leaves showed that Ranger was back. He was completely fagged out.
My sharp eye, running over him, caught a row of notches on the bone handle of the big Colt he packed. It was then that the marshal, the Ranger in me, went hot under the collar. The custom that desperadoes and gun-fighters had of cutting a notch on their guns for every man killed was one of which the mere mention made my gorge rise.
Again the ranger paused and studied Charley's face keenly. Evidently the wide-set eyes, with their indication of intelligence, the strong nose and good chin, and especially Charley's straight mouth with its thin lips, reassured him. "My boy," he said kindly, "I don't want to alarm you unnecessarily, but be careful of that man.
The orders of the Radnor had been changed at the last moment, however, and she had been directed to go in pursuit of Jones and the Ranger, which it was currently reported had got to sea from the Delaware Bay, bound for Canada and the Newfoundland coast.
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