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I wouldn't have come otherwise, at least not for a long time perhaps never. It seemed as if I ought to as if it were the least I could do. Of course, it looks altogether different, now that I know I really want to. But you see I didn't know that for sure until I saw you standing here. Oh, Jack, there's such a lot I wish I could wipe out." "It's wiped out," he said happily. "The slate's clean.
The boys had hitched Jack Slate's horse into the carriage, and he got on the seat with Carl, and they were ready to start. With an "Adios" to Billy Sudden and his boys, they were off, and arrived at the ranch house without further incident. Mrs.
"We are up against each other once more, and, believe me, Slate, this is going to be the last time." There was a smouldering fire in Slate's fine eyes. Nevertheless, he seemed disturbed. "You're up against a big thing, Wingate," he said. "Peter Phipps has made good over here. They say that he's coining money in this new company of his." "I'm after his blood, all the same," Wingate replied.
Afraid your slate's a little damaged; awfully sorry, you ought to keep a toasting-fork ha! ha!" and a chorus of laughter greeted the sally. Cusack groaned and fumed. "You pack of young cads," he howled through the key-hole. "Come out of there, do you hear? you thieves you. I'll warm you, Parson, when I get hold of you." "Just what we're doing to the bloaters," cried Telson. There was a pause.
You're whipped, Hardwick; your slate's broken, and your man Reynolds hasn't a ghost of a show he nor any of the others on your string. You haven't made a move that we haven't caught onto just about as soon as you put your fingers on the piece you meant to move.
"You have no regrets?" he asked, as they moved through the hall on the way out. "I regret nothing," she answered fervently. "I never shall." Wingate, after several strenuous hours spent in Slate's office, returned to his rooms late that night, to find Peter Phipps awaiting him.
Andrew Slate's altered deportment would have delighted the author of "Sartor Resartus." With his modish and correct clothes, his self-respect seemed to have returned. He carried himself differently, there was a confident ring in his tone.
There instantly broke forth a chorus of yells that could be heard above the noise of the breakers on the rocks, and the wind rattling the branches of the low oak trees. "Tit for tat," exclaimed. Bumpus; "what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. After this we'll call it off, fellows, remember. It was give and take, and now the slate's wiped clean."
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