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Updated: June 22, 2025
Ripley's pin was found in my pocket today, and I can only guess that some one -Ripley, perhaps dropped it in my pocket. Ripley has some feelings of enmity for me, anyway. We had a fight last week, and " Dick could not repress a smile "I thrashed him so that he was out of school for several days." "But Ripley was not at school for the last few days, until today," broke in Dr. Thornton.
We can't be sure that Fits, or Fred Ripley's crowd, won't swoop down here at any moment. It is just the doubt that will make us feel unwise in leaving the camp without any one to guard it. As far as Ripley is concerned, I don't believe he's going to show up here again.
That was as far as the police could get with the prisoner. He readily admitted all that was known, and he had even gone so far as to tell how he had stolen the watch and the pin, and how he had secreted them in Dick's trunk, but beyond that the fellow would not go further. "Did you have anything to do with placing Ripley's pin in Prescott's pocket?" questioned Hemingway.
He had almost reached Dick with his performance. Ripley's bewildered astonishment was apparent in his face. "Thunder, I'd no idea they could do anything like that!" gasped Fred to himself. "They're very nearly as good as I am. How in blazes did they ever get hold of the wrinkles? They can't afford a man like Everett." "Any more candidates?" called Coach Luce. There weren't.
They feinted for two or three passes, then Ripley let out a short-arm jab that caught Dick Prescott on the end of the nose. Blood began to drip. Ripley's eyes danced. "I'll black both eyes, too, before I put you out," he threatened, in a low tone, as he fought in for another opening. "Brag's a good dog," retorted Dick, quietly.
I've sworn to get Lapierre. And I tell you, he's mine! Unless you get him first. You're a good man, Ripley, and you may do it but if you do, when you get back with him, you'll know you've been somewhere." The lines of Ripley's face softened; as a sporting proposition the situation appealed to him. He thrust out his hand. "It's a go, MacNair," he said, "and let the best man win!"
In spite of the dust and heat of the wheat rieks I dreamed of poems and stories. Ripley's Trip," the first of the series of sketches which became Main-Travelled Roads. I did not succeed in finishing it, however, till after my return to Boston in September.
A laugh went up among the crowd as Fred, crouching low, head down, sailed in at that tackling dummy. Young Ripley's face was red, but he took the coach's stern tone in good part, for the young man was determined to make good on the eleven this year. "Now, Prescott! Show us that you can beat your last performance! Imagine the dummy to be a two hundred and twenty pound center!"
The parsonage was situated at the corner of Summer and what is now Chauncy streets. It had a yard, and an orchard which Emerson said was as large as Dr. Ripley's, which might have been some two or three acres. Afterwards there was a brick house looking on Summer Street, in which Emerson the father lived.
She did not forget the absent Omas, or the hundreds of hapless people whom they had left behind, who were still in great danger. It was Mrs. Ripley's custom always to offer prayer in the little household at the beginning of each day.
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