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Updated: May 11, 2025
"I knew that nothing could stir up the corps this way except Old Jack or a rabbit," said Happy Tom, as he sprang to his feet he meant no disrespect to his commander, as thousands would give chase to a rabbit when it happened to be roused out of the bushes. "Thunderation! What a change!" exclaimed St.
Some word which sounded very much like "thunderation" escaped his lips, but he said no more, for he saw in the sleeping woman's face a look he never mistook. It was death, and ten minutes after he entered the room Julia Thornton lay dead in Daisy's arms. There was a moment or so of half-consciousness, during which they caught the words.
"Who in thunderation are you, anyway?" demanded Cap'n Sproul, propping himself on the table and leaning forward belligerently. "My name is Dependence Crymble," replied the other, quietly. "My father was Hope-for-grace Crymble. Odd names, eh? But the Crymbles were never like other folks." Cap'n Sproul sat down hard in his chair and goggled at the thin man. "Say, look-here-you," he gasped at last.
A cry of delight came from the beam, a shout of pride and relief from the ladder, and sounds of a terrific scramble from the stall. First there was a sickening grunt, then a surprised howl, then the banging of horse- hoofs, and at last a combination of growls and howls that proved Swallow's invasion of a hornet's nest. "Thunderation!" came in sharp, agonized tones from the ladder.
"I don't want it for myself." "Then who in nation are you beggin' fur?" "For General Jackson. He's sitting over there." "Thunderation! The gen'ral himself! Here, boy!" Bearing a big piece of meat in one hand and a big piece of bread in the other Harry returned to Jackson, who had not yet tasted food that day. The general ate heartily, but almost unconsciously. He seemed to be in a deep study.
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