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"An' I've nothin' to say against larch IF you want to make a temp'ry job of it. I ain't 'ere to tell you what isn't so, sir; an' you can't say I ever come creepin' up on you, or tryin' to lead you further in than you set out " A year ago George would have danced with impatience. Now he scraped a little mud off his old gaiters with his spud, and waited.
Her life was hard but not unpeaceful, and the old people, all dead and gone now, remembered Ellen as a very quiet, staid woman who worked hard for a living, sometimes at the wash-tub, but mostly in the fields, haymaking and harvesting and at other times weeding, or collecting flints, or with a spud or sickle extirpating thistles in the pasture-land.
She turned over the page, and there was the address he had mentioned a Mr. Cathcart. Surely he did not expect her to write to this stranger.... She walked up and down with her spud for another half-hour before she could come to any conclusion. Certainly she agreed with Mr.
"Nothing of the sort," retorted Tom. "Anybody could have done what I did, and you know it." "All the same, you're the one who did it," answered Spud, admiringly. "He certainly did," said one of the men in the crowd. "That teacher ought to be mighty thankful for what he did for her." "I don't want her thanks," added Tom, in a low voice. "All I want her to do, is to treat Nellie fairly."
And, coming directly toward him across a level lava bed, three of the things, with leather wings trailing, were approaching. Spud was unmoving; his feet might have been one with the volcanic rock on which he stood for any ability of his to raise them.
At this the craft containing Koswell and Larkspur shot ahead. "Hurrah! That's the way to do it!" yelled Flockley in delight. "Even money on the green boat!" "Take you," answered Spud Jackson promptly. "How much?" "A fiver." "All right." "Steady, Tom," cautioned Dick. "Now, then Ready?" "Yes." "Then bend to it. One, two, three, four."
I bet I can ge get into that that fraternity without any of the fe fellows seeing me!" "I don't believe you will," returned Shorts in a more sober manner. "Look there, Spud, the whole house is alight. I say Swipes Swipes, it's after midnight, and the fraternity is all lighted up." "I I I don't care if it is," grunted Swipes in a low, thick voice. "I I want to go to bed.
For, where before his suit had bulged out roundly with the inner pressure of one atmosphere, it now became less taut and it hung loosely about him when the hissing ceased. "An air-lock," said Spud joyfully, "or I'm a rat-tailed imp myself! That means a heavier air-pressure inside. And now I know 'tis men folks I'm goin' to see!"
Or did Haldgren bring a sandwich with him, it may be?" Chet Bullard shook his head doubtfully. "Don't get sarcastic!" he grinned. "You can't think of any wilder questions than I have asked myself. "He couldn't have lived here, Spud; that's the only answer. It just isn't humanly possible. All I know is that he did it. I can't tell you how I know it, but I do.
The farmer is talking with a friend who has looked in from the lane in passing, and carries a two-spean spud, or Canterbury hoe, with points instead of a broad blade. They are saying that it is a 'pretty day, 'pretty weather' it is always 'pretty' with them, instead of fine. Pretty weather for the hopping; and so that leads on to climbing up into the loft and handling the golden scales.