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Upon the subject, however, of sales and orders, the house-manager was extremely reticent. So it was that Gregory passed the long days of his confinement, rejoicing with Dickie Lang over the growing success of the outside end and worrying over McCoy's evasion when he was questioned concerning the disposition of the finished product.
"I'd like to see Dick's face when you spring the proposition of having her work for you," he said. "Suppose she turns me down. Has that anything to do with your working for me?" McCoy's face flushed. "Don't know that it has," he admitted, "but " The telephone interrupted further conversation and Gregory turned to the instrument. "Yes Mr. Gregory at the phone. All right."
After bein' in ell for fifteen days an' now e wants us to sail this floatin' ell to sea again?" The captain could not control them, but McCoy's gentle presence seemed to rebuke and calm them, and the muttering and cursing died away, until the full crew, save here and there an anxious face directed at the captain, yearned dumbly toward the green clad peaks and beetling coast of Pitcairn.
"But he ain't easy to keep within bounds," said Brace, putting his pipe in his pocket and rising; "for he's been knockin' the lobsters of Europe over like ninepins of late years. Hows'ever, we'll lick him yet on land, as we've licked him already on the sea, or my name's not " He stopped abruptly, having caught sight of Dan McCoy's twinkling eye.
The section that received my closest attention has its northern limit along the Potomac between McCoy's ferry at the eastern base of the North Mountain, and Harper's Ferry at the western base of the Blue Ridge. The southern limit is south of Staunton, on the divide which separates the waters flowing into the Potomac from those that run to the James.
Crossing the Potomac at McCoy's Ford on the tenth he reached Chambersburg that night, destroyed the Federal stores, took all the prisoners he wanted, cut the wires, obstructed the rails, and went on with hundreds of Federal horses.
Martha Foote, in the doorway, gazed serenely back upon her. And Geisha McCoy's quick intelligence and drama-sense responded to the picture of this calm and capable figure in the midst of the feverish, over-lighted, over-heated room. In that moment the nervous pucker between her eyes ironed out ever so little, and something resembling a wan smile crept into her face.
"My name is McCoy," came the answer in tones that breathed tenderness and compassion. "I mean, are you the pilot?" McCoy passed the benediction of his gaze over the tall, heavy-shouldered man with the haggard, unshaven face who had joined the captain. "I am as much a pilot as anybody," was McCoy's answer. "We are all pilots here, Captain, and I know every inch of these waters."
I can't seem to see anything else. I can't " Her head came down on her arms, that rested on her tight-hugged knees. "Somebody of yours in it?" Martha Foote asked, quietly. She waited. Then she made a wild guess an intuitive guess. "Son?" "How did you know?" Geisha McCoy's head came up. "I didn't." "Well, you're right.
But good luck failed to materialize, and it was not long before the expected began to happen. Sternberg, Bloom, and McCoy's business appeared outwardly passable, but curiously enough it almost always seemed after the loss that the risk was one on which the company should never have been committed.
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