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Updated: June 10, 2025
"But he left orders for Holley to ride with me and look after me. Isn't that funny? Poor old Holley! He hates to doublecross Dad, he says." "I'm glad Holley's to look after you," replied Slone. "Yesterday I saw you tearin' down into the sage on Sarch. I wondered what you'd do, Lucy, if Cordts or that loon Creech should get hold of you?" "I'd fight!" "But, child, that's nonsense.
Of course, Keno and me didn't know no more what to do than a photograft of the Wild Man of Borneo when there was a fain tin' woman in the question. As I said, I hadn't been married enough to learn, and the present line of Mrs. Scraggses was healthy, whatever other faults they might have. Hadds 'ud come over and tell us half of something, and then rush back to the Major, tearin' his hair.
An', fussly, we'll pursidder dis: IS HE ABLE TER DO IT? Is he able fur ter kill marster's niggers wid de s'ord an' de famine? My bredren, he is able! Didn' he prize open de whale's mouf, an' take Jonah right outn him? Didn' he hol' back de lions wen dey wuz er rampin' an' er tearin' roun' atter Dan'l in de den?
I come in while they was all tearin' around like a passel of geese, and when they didn't seem any place for her lower down, told 'em they might bring her to my room. I'm about the only one that rooms alone, I guess." "And hasn't she spoken at all?" "Yes, she come to and told us her name, but that's about all.
Barbie gave a low, waverin' call: "Oh, what have you done, oh, Dick! Daddy, Daddy; what's the matter Dad?" She jumped to his side, an' after tearin' off her veil she knelt at his feet; but he drew his hands feebly away, an' refused to touch her; while a look of sorrow sorrow an' pain an' shame, swept across his old gray face, an' his lips trembled so 'at he couldn't talk.
Don't 'pear as if you was tearin' out a lung or two every time you drawed breath?" "I'm almost well," said Harry gratefully, "and, Mr. Jarvis, I'd like to leave my wet clothes here to dry while I'm gone. I'll be back in the morning with my father." "All right," said Samuel Jarvis, "but I wish you'd come bright an' early.
"I present to you the cool, pink, and well-flavored combination of life and longing with a cherry at the bottom of it. Thanks to Tom Osby, we have Art! We are not quite provincial. Listen at Madame Donatelli tearin' it off in there! . . . Shoot him up, boys!" he cried suddenly. "I'm damned if I'm going to look all my days on the picture of a girl in a blue sash!
He talked with every movement. "So this here is the lion, is it?" nodded granddad. "This here is the ravenin', tearin', screechin' man-eater? Why, he looks mostly plain kid to me." "He he's been shot, ain't he, granddad?" asked the child in a whisper. "Well, boy, I'd say that the lion had been chawed up considerable by dogs." He pointed. "See them holes? The big one in front?
The message goes on to say that the captain's name is Coke, and that he is accompanied by his daughter. . . . Eh? What did you say? . . . Are you there?" "Yes, I'm 'ere, or I think I am," said David with a desperate calmness. "Is that all?" "All for the present." "It doesn't say that Coke is a ravin', tearin', 'owlin' lunatic, does it?" "No. Is that your view?"
"Look here, Nahum Beals," he said, "you're in my house, but I ain't goin' to stand no such talk as that, I can tell you." John Sargent laid a pacifically detaining hand on Nahum Beals's arm as he strode past him. "Oh, Lord, stop rampagin' up and down like a wildcat," he said. "What good do you think you're doin' tearin' and shoutin' and insultin' people?
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