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Updated: June 13, 2025
There was evidently some understanding with a detachment he had left in Kentucky, for on the 11th General Manson, of Judah's division, who was on his way with a brigade from Louisville to Madison by steamboats under naval convoy, fell in with a party of Morgan's men seeking to cross the river at Twelve-mile Island, a little below Madison.
She waved toward them one of the slippers she was cleaning. "Walt said somethin' about it yes'day," continued Mrs. Larabee, with relish, "but I said no; no twelve-mile drive for me, with a young baby! But some folks we know came down on the morning train you girls have heard me speak of Ed and Lizzie Purdy?" "Oh, yes!" said Mary Bell, sick with one more disappointment.
His first lesson in pitching had been brief, the great Everett declining to tire the boy's arm too much at the first drill. So young Ripley, after a twelve-mile trip in the auto through the crisp December air, came swinging down the street at a brisk walk. Just as this moment he espied the two girls, though he did not see Dick or Dave. Belle happened to turn as Ripley came near her.
A rumbling sound made me sit up at last. We were crossing over the "twelve-mile bridge." In spite of my dreaming I was keeping my eyes on the look-out for any sign of a landmark, but this was the only one I had known so far, and it came through the ear, not the eye.
After a pause the Colonel made answer: "No, I have no fear of that. It would cost five hundred thousand dollars to build that twelve-mile line and bridge Mad River, and the Cardigans haven't got that amount of money. What's more, they can't get it." "But suppose," she persisted, "that the real builder of the road should prove to be Bryce Cardigan, after all. What would you do?"
Then I felt my way down over the rocks, taking care, if possible, not to tread on anything human, and then sought out the difficult twelve-mile track to Ladysmith over the veldt and hills, lighted towards midnight by a waning and clouded moon. LADYSMITH, October 27, 1899.
Oh, I hope nothing has happened to the poor old judge." "Well, we'll soon know," replied the chief. "Now, you just take it easy and rest until your father comes. You need it after a twelve-mile walk. Of all the brave little girls " The ringing of the telephone cut the chief short. Grace gave a long sigh and leaned back in the big chair. She was so tired. Her eyelids drooped
He knew that all June could do was to steady the team enough to keep the horses in the road. Every moment he expected a smash, but it did not come. The colts reached the foot of Twelve-Mile safely and swept up the slope beyond. The driver took a new grip on the lines and put her weight on them. It was a long hill.
She was ready when Homer come with her horse and off they rode on the twelve-mile trip. I gather that not much was said on the way by Homer who only muttered like a fever patient from time to time, with Minna saying once in a while how glad she was she had thought up this one sure way out of his trouble. At Kulanche they rode up in front of Old Man Geiger's office, who is justice of the peace.
But the Chief calmly informed me that they were "heavy enough." I presume he should know, having helped to carry them down that twelve-mile trail. Pride alone prevented me from turning and fleeing back up that steep trail like a fly up a wall. I looked at White Mountain. He was riding serenely on, never doubting my close attendance at his horse's heels.
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