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I suppose we could wait till Mr. Perry gets back, but I can't stand any delay that isn't absolutely necessary." "Why, where has your father gone, Cub?" asked Hal. "He started out to get police help," answered the boy addressed. "His first call was to be at Rockport, but no doubt he'll come right back here when he gets the message I sent for him.
I must get away from here. The Plains somewhere may help me." "But why leave here?" he asked. After all, the father-heart was yearning to keep his son. "Why did you leave Massachusetts?" I could not say Rockport. I hated the sound of the name. "Where will you go, my boy?" He spoke with deepest sorrow, and love mingled in his tones. "Out to the Saline Country. They need strong men out there.
Hal promised to report back to the Rockport amateur any further developments of interest and tapped "goodnight" with his key. "Well, your two main points have been proved, Mr. Perry," Bud announced as all three boys removed the receivers from their ears. "What are they?" asked the man thus addressed. "Mathematics and geography." Mr. Perry smiled.
He says: "I have had Rockport trees produce four hundred pounds each and the fruit net ten cents a pound for the entire crop. The English Morello trees may be grown fifteen feet apart each way, which will allow two hundred trees to the acre. The larger trees ought to be planted somewhat thinner.... Cherries are packed largely in eight-pound baskets and in strawberry quarts.
Photographed for McCLURE'S MAGAZINE from the original, now on file in the County Clerk's office, Springfield, Illinois. It was after he had read the Laws of Indiana that Lincoln had free access to the library of his admirer, Judge John Pitcher of Rockport, Indiana, where undoubtedly he examined many law-books.
"Friday" had performed his duty, but both boys had disappeared, and there seemed to be only one explanation of their disappearance, namely, the premonition of danger at the hands of the four strange men that the Rockport amateur, Max, had received from the boys on the island.
I saw no horse-chestnut trees equal to those I remember in Salem, and especially to one in Rockport, which is the largest and finest I have ever seen; no willows like those I pass in my daily drives. On the other hand, I think I never looked upon a Lombardy poplar equal to one I saw in Cambridge, England. This tree seems to flourish in England much more than with us.
Somehow I was not at all surprised when the Rockport, Massachusetts, weekly newspaper, that had come to our house every Tuesday while we had lived on Cliff Street, contained the notice of the marriage of Richard Tillhurst and Rachel Agnes Melrose. The happy couple, the paper said, would reside in Rockport.
She was a strong, comely, unselfish woman who lived where the best thoughts grow. One day in late October, a sudden squall drove landward, capsizing the dory in which my mother was returning from a visit to old friends on an island off the Rockport coast. She was in sight of home when that furious gust of wind and rain swept across her path.
Baker standing by and waiting eagerly for results. And results were not long coming. The yacht was scarcely out of sight beyond the outer rim of islands, when Cub recognized the call of Max Handy, the Canadian amateur at Rockport. He acknowledged the call, and then telegraphed the following: "I am the boy whom you met at the depot a few hours ago.
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