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Updated: June 8, 2025
Colonel Wincott and Xoa were on the porch, lighted by the great, red torch whose radiance was flung afar by the reflector aid of the fog. "It's Britt's house and Britt is in it," he told them. "Colonel, your man Friday had over many times one text that fits this thing. 'Can a man take fire into his bosom, and his clothing not be burned?" He went to Xoa and patted her arm.
"I'll say, further, Frank, that when the Prophet started off last evening, blowing his trump to sound the signal for the migration, Britt stood and saw him go and never guessed what it meant." "I heard that horn I wondered." "He's a good blower," stated Colonel Wincott. "He blew all the props out from under the man Britt. Solidly grounded on texts, Elias is!
"I've heard about him," said the colonel. "Optimist? So am I. Get in touch with him and tell him to come to my new town. He'll have something that he can really optimize over." Colonel Wincott sedulously kept his attention off the two who rode on the back seat; he obliged Mrs. Harnden to do the same. After a time the trotting nag overtook the trailers of the procession.
And this sonorous proclamation followed Frank and Vona: "'And I will bring the blind by a way that they knew not; I will lead them in paths that they have not known; I will make darkness light before them, and crooked things straight. These things will I do unto them, and not forsake them." "Amen!" responded Colonel Wincott, fervently. The two persons on the rear seat did not speak.
Just now it's more important for you to be told that Tasper Britt, by his own acts, has confessed that he robbed the Egypt Trust Company." "Well, I'll be damnationed!" blurted the big man, with such whole-souled astonishment that the mode of expression was pardonable. "And I thought that plenty and enough was happening in this town for one night!" "Frank, this is Colonel Norman Wincott.
Beside the lake there was a nest of portable houses. "Homes till we build bigger ones," explained the master of The Promised Land. "I'm giving building lots free. The class of settlers warrants it!" Then Colonel Wincott called their attention to something else something that was not visible. He wrinkled his nose, but his sniff indicated gusto. "Smell it? It's food for the Children of Israel.
Dear Wincott, You write to me, from your "bright home in the setting sun," with the flattering information that you have read my poor "Letters to Dead Authors." You are kind enough to say that you wish I would write some "Letters to Living Authors;" but that, I fear, is out of the question, for me.
Vaniman leaped from his chair and turned his back on the man who proposed to stir the blood of the listener. Squire Hexter hurried to Colonel Wincott and whispered information which caused the master of The Promised Land to elevate his eyebrows understandingly. "Great Caesar! Why, sure!" he blurted, and popped up out of his chair.
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