United States or Iceland ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
In the fog he wrote "Fire him" with his forefinger, taking particular care to make it legible with neatly formed letters. The next moment both fog and words evaporated. It flashed into Stoughton's mind that they had not lasted long. He swung round, "It's the only thing to do, but I don't want the job. You can have it, Birch." The lean face changed not a whit. "I take my end of it.
It is no wonder that Episcopal ministers who have inhabited the Gunnell home in the past have complained of the lights flashing on during the wee small hours of the night and of the stairs creaking. It is hard to tell whether Mosby's ghost is coming again for Stoughton or whether Stoughton's ghost is wandering through the house, wary of a second attempt to surprise him at night.
He got it for a lot of deer-skins in Boston. Begged him not to drink it all up, which he said he would not do, but would give it to his squaw. Did ask him to come home with me, which he refused, as he meant to go on to Neponset Village. "Dec. 17. The wind blowing these two days to the land made it very high water, coming nearly up to Governor Stoughton's elm, and covering the road. "Dec. 18.
"I'd hoped it was; I almost killed a horse getting here," Mosby retorted. "Come down and open up; dispatches from Washington." In a few moments, a light appeared inside on the first floor, and the door opened. A man in a nightshirt, holding a candle, stood in the doorway. "I'm Lieutenant Prentiss, on General Stoughton's staff. The general's asleep. If you'll give me the dispatches ..."
Here the Arabian berry evolved clouds of perfume; here Curaçoa glistened from behind its strawy shield; and here a decanter of warranted real French brandy, side by side with a bottle of Stoughton's bitters, suggested that a cocktail might not only be desirable, but possible.
Birch's difficult speech had something in it that was almost deadly. "He's asked for it and he's going to get it right here. Come on." They trailed slowly up, a small, bedraggled, indecent procession, lost to everything except utter weariness and a spirit of cold revenge. In Stoughton's heavy heart was the thought that Clark had unexpectedly made their job vastly easier than they anticipated.
Riggs' thin legs were being scratched by the sharp samples with which he had stuffed his trouser pockets, but he felt them not, and Stoughton's choler had given way to a profound contemplation out of which he periodically breathed the conviction that he would be damned.
So he climbed out of bed, putting on his clothes. On the way back to the courthouse square, Prentiss got away from them in the darkness, but Mosby kept a tight hold on Stoughton's bridle. By this time, the suspicion that all was not well in the county seat had begun to filter about.
Word Of The Day