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Updated: May 17, 2025
No, she assured herself, it was not because the officer happened to be Ranson. She would have done as much, or as little, for any one of them. When Curtis and Haines were ill of the grippe, had she not carried them many good things of her own making? But it was not an easy sacrifice.
He sank on his knees and began tugging violently at the stirrup-straps. The two officers, their eyes filled with concern, pursued him across the room. With Cahill twenty feet away, they dared not raise their voices, but in pantomime they beckoned him vigorously to return. Ranson came at once, flushed and smiling, holding a hooded army-stirrup in each hand.
Ranson placed himself suddenly in front of Mary Cahill as though to shield her. His eyes stole stealthily towards Cahill's confession. Still unread and still unsigned, it lay unopened upon the table. Cahill was gazing upon Ranson in blank bewilderment. Captain Carr gasped a sigh of relief that was far from complimentary to his client. "Who confessed?" he cried. "'Pop' Henderson," said Crosby.
Ranson was at liberty. So they both went in to see him, and the rest may be imagined. The trustees undertook to pay his expenses, even if they had to stretch a point to do so, and gave him L20 to go on with, also a letter of introduction to Scoones, whom he was instructed to see and arrange to join their classes.
"I don't mind about Ranson, Richards and Son, or anybody else, but I don't quite see why you should damn me, who, I am sure, never wished to give you any trouble." "You! And who the Hades may you be?" "I am Godfrey Knight, and I suppose that you are my trustee, or one of them." "Godfrey Knight, the young man whose father gives us so much trouble, all at our own expense, I may remark.
I can see what you want, and I can tell you that you and Captain Carr are not helping your case by asking me up here to drink and smoke with you, when you know that I'm the most important witness they've got against you." Ranson stared at his father-in-law-elect in genuine amazement, and then laughed lightly. "Why, dear Mr.
On one occasion young Ranson spent three days in this home while the Federal pickets were on constant watch day and night at the front gate opening into the lawn, and went in and out of the house at their convenience. Moreover, the negro servants of the family knew of "Marse Tom's" presence, but looked and acted negro ignorance to perfection when catechised.
Only six months before they themselves had been forwarded from West Point, done up in neat new uniforms. The traditions of the Academy of loyalty and discipline had been kneaded into their vertebrae. In Ranson they saw only the horrible result of giving commissions to civilians.
"Is that all that brought you here?" "The main thing is that she is here," said Ranson; "for which the poor prisoner is grateful grateful to her and to the man she hasn't seen, in the mask and poncho, whose name she doesn't know. Mr. Cahill, bad as it is, I insist on your finishing your whiskey. Miss Cahill, please sit down."
He moved a chair toward her and, as he did so, looked full into her face with such love and happiness that she turned her eyes away. "Well?" asked Cahill. "I must first explain to Lieutenant Ranson, father," said his daughter, "that to-day is the day we take account of stock." "Speaking of stock," said Ranson, "don't forget that I owe you for a red kerchief and a rubber poncho.
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