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Hopewell, who lives now in Carson, had a few lines from Roland. He simply said he was alive and well, and that he had hopes of seeing her again one of these fine days." "Yes, that's r-r-right," burst out Toby, in a disgusted tone, "but not a p-peep did he give about what he was d-d-doing, or if he meant to show up and c-c-claim his f-f-fine f-f-fortune.
I guess I'll get busy right away," remarked Bandy-legs, eagerly. "No need," spoke up Owen. "Your turn will come to-morrow. I'm serving as cook this afternoon. Don't you smell fish frying? I've been over to the river myself and hooked a bunch of nice perch." "F-f-fine. G-g-good for you, Owen," said Toby, slapping the other on the back. "Oh, shucks!
"All I c-c-can say then, Bandy-legs, they b-b-builded wiser than they knew when they j-j-just let it g-g-go at regrets. A f-f-fine George Washington you'd m-m-make, I'm thinking."
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