Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 25, 2025
During the week which he and Scip had been spending at the ranche, seven or eight new men had been taken in by Swanson, who, as was before said, was getting in shape for the spring round-up. Of these new men six were Pinkerton detectives, and at this particular time were several miles from the ranche herding cattle.
All day long after their departure he thought of the emancipated house in which he could, if he desired, go mad and curse the gods without having to keep up a husbandly front. He considered, "I could have a reg'lar party to-night; stay out till two and not do any explaining afterwards. Cheers!" He telephoned to Vergil Gunch, to Eddie Swanson.
"I cry my eyes out over Tiny Tim," Miss Quinlan was saying to Miss Stokes, and at the same instant Miss Brown was telling Miss Wright that Tiny Tim was always good for a bucketful, so far as she was concerned. Imogene was sound asleep, and there were faint sobs in her breathing. "Before we begin, Swanson," said Mr.
As though in answer to his wish, from across the parade-ground the wireless again began to crash and crackle; but now Swanson was at a greater distance from it, and the sighing rhythm of the waltz was not interrupted. Swanson considered to whom he might send a farewell message, but as in his mind he passed from one friend to another, he saw that to each such a greeting could bring only distress.
Slim waist girdled with raw silk, strong brows, ardent eyes, hair parted above a broad forehead she meant youth to him and a charm which saddened. He thought of how valiant a companion she would be on a long motor tour, exploring mountains, picnicking in a pine grove high above a valley. Her frailness touched him; he was angry at Eddie Swanson for the incessant family bickering.
Come, is it a bargain?" In answer Cummings held out his hand. The Doctor grasped it cordially and holding his left hand to Moriarity, who took it, said: "We four, for Scip is my pal, can do it OK, We can " "Why not do it now," said Cummings, with energy. "Our horses are here and we can put a whole day between us and the ranche before Swanson returns."
Yet he had known by instinct that Louetta Swanson could be approached. Her eyes and lips were moist. Her face tapered from a broad forehead to a pointed chin, her mouth was thin but strong and avid, and between her brows were two outcurving and passionate wrinkles. She was thirty, perhaps, or younger.
Well, he might not succeed in duplicating that exactly, but he could imitate Swedish dialect, and, amid the excitement and darkness, trust to luck. Let us see; Burke had surely called one of those miners yonder Ole, another Peterson; it would probably help in throwing the fellows off their guard to hear their own names spoken, and they most naturally would expect Swanson to be with the foreman.
The fellow was not so big a fool as he looked, for while the features remained expressionless and vacant, there was a sly glimmer to the eye, betraying an active, observant mind behind the mask. I began to suspect some purpose in his play acting. "What is your name, my man?" I asked finally, made nervous by his silence. "Peter Swanson, sir," humbly. "Oh, a Swede?"
"Ay ban Nels Swanson." "Huh! Well, it's little the loikes o' ye iver railly knows about names, Oi 'm thinkin'. They tell me ye don't have no proper, dacent names of yer own over in Sweden, wherever the divil that is, I dunno, but jist picks up annything handy for to dhraw pay on." "It ban't true." "It's a loiar ye are!
Word Of The Day
Others Looking