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Updated: July 28, 2025
"Do you think," asked Colonel McCabe, "that the supposed Japanese plan of attack on the Philippines, published at the beginning of the year in the North China Daily News, was authentic?" "That question cannot be answered unless you know who gave the document to the Shanghai paper, and what object he had in doing so," replied Harryman. "How do you mean?"
Dinner was ordered and served in the privacy of their own apartments that they might be entirely free from intrusion or interruptions during their deliberations, and it was at a late hour when, their consultation ended, they gathered about the open fire with their cigars, awaiting, with much self-congratulation and cheerful talk, the return of the absent McCabe. "Confound it!" exclaimed Mr.
'T is the flavour of heather in the grouse, the taste of wild herbs and evergreen-buds in the venison. I like the maple-sugar tang of the Vermonter's sharp-edged speech; the round, full-waisted r's of Pennsylvania and Ohio; the soft, indolent vowels of the South. One of the best talkers now living is a schoolmaster from Virginia, Colonel Gordon McCabe.
Lucre or Mr. M'Cabe were at all upon terms of intimacy. Mr. M'Cabe considered Mr. Lucre as a wealthy epicure, fat and heretical; whilst Mr. Lucre looked upon Father McCabe as vulgar and idolatrous.
There was a momentary pause, and then McCabe stepped out of the shadows, six-gun in one hand. "What the devil are yuh doin' here?" he demanded with a harshness which struck Buck in curious contrast to his usual air of good humor. "Who's that with yuh?" "Only Green. We we got worried, an' saddled up an' followed yuh. When we heard the shots What did happen to Rick, Slim?
The kind stuff goes, remember." "To your acute sense of fitness in such matters, McCabe," says he, "I bow profoundly," and with a jaunty wave of his hand he drifts out. Honest, compared to the shifty-eyed, suspicious-actin' party that blew into my studio a few weeks back, he seems like a kid on a Coney Island holiday.
Gettin' to be a reg'lar Broadway rounder, I expect?" "No," says he, shakin' the water off of him like a terrier, "I I can't seem to get used to bein' a city man. Fact is, McCabe, I guess I begun too late. I don't like it at all." "Homesick for Pemaquid?" says I. "That's it," says he.
He found that the bullet had plowed through the fleshy part of the thigh, just missing the bone, and, barring chances of infection, it was not likely to be dangerous. He was readjusting Slim's crude bandaging when he heard the beat of hoofs and out of the corner of one eye saw McCabe walk swiftly out to meet the returning punchers.
To guard against losing any of their supplies, Tim McCabe told his friends that it would be necessary to unload them themselves. "From this p'int," said he, "we must hoe our own row; under hiven we must depind on oursilves. Hardman, lind a hand there, and step lively." To the astonishment of the youths, the man took hold and wrought with right good will.
The Christian is quite free to believe that there is a considerable amount of settled order and inevitable development in the universe. But the materialist is not allowed to admit into his spotless machine the slightest speck of spiritualism or miracle. Poor Mr. McCabe is not allowed to retain even the tiniest imp, though it might be hiding in a pimpernel.
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