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I supposed he had done so, but it is clear to me now that he carried out his infamous scheme." Mr. Jennings looked amused. He admired Stark's brazen effrontery. "What have you to say to this charge, Mr. Gibbon?" he asked. "Only this, sir, that I was concerned in the burglary." "He admits it!" said Stark, triumphantly. "But this man forced me to it.
Colonel Baum, their brave commander, was killed, and the British loss amounted to some eight or nine hundred effective troops, in killed and prisoners. The loss of the Americans was 30 killed and 40 wounded. Stark's horse was killed in the action. Too much praise, as Mr. Everett well remarks, cannot be bestowed on the conduct of those who gained the battle of Bennington, officers and men.
So far they had watched each other with unwavering, unblinking eyes, straining at the leash and taut in every nerve. Now, however, the trader's fingers tightened on the knife-handle, and his knuckles whitened with the grip, at which Stark's right hand swept to his waist, and simultaneously Gale lunged across the table. His blade nickered in the light, and a gun spoke, once twice again and again.
For the rest of the long, dreary day the memory of that I.O.U. with Lester Stark's name sprawled across the bottom of it, in the dashing caligraphy that he knew, danced before his mind's eye like a fleeting hope, making the day less long. Meanwhile, Cleek, Mr.
"There's something more than common on John Stark's mind," whispered a tall New Hampshire Boy, to his fellow in the ranks. "See how his eyes snap! I am an old neighbor of his, you know, and can read him like a book.
One half of the force could have followed the Mystic and turned the American left wing, long before Colonel Stark's command came upon the field. The British dined as leisurely as if they had only to move any time and seize the threatening position, and thereby lost their chief opportunity.
Every afternoon at six at which hour the managerial duties at Stark's terminated he was to report in the gym for half an hour's vigorous work on the apparatus. This iron-clad regime was to go into effect on the morrow. "I'll look at you stripped," said Klinker, eyeing his new pupil thoughtfully, "and see first what you need.
In this cheerless season, on St. Patrick's Day, the seventeenth of March, the Irish soldiers who formed a part of the garrison of Fort William Henry were paying homage to their patron saint in libations of heretic rum, the product of New England stills; and it is said that John Stark's rangers forgot theological differences in their zeal to share the festivity.
His eyes sought Stark's face frequently, and once the blood left his cheeks and his eyes blazed as he observed the gambler eying Necia, gazing at her with the same boldness he would have used in scanning a horse. "You are a mighty good-looking girl for a 'blood," remarked Stark, at last.
From the peep hole where the eye commanded the situation a small black speck went whirling along the road to Monopoly which might be a boy on a bicycle, but no one came toward Stark's mountain on that bright sunny morning to disturb the quiet worker in the dark cellar. Billy was on his way to Monopoly, his aunt appeased for the time being, with the distinct purpose of buying the morning paper.
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