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Updated: June 20, 2025
Comstock crushed it with her foot. Elnora stepped back. Excepting the red mark, her face was very white. "That was the last moth I needed," she said, "to complete a collection worth three hundred dollars. You've ruined it before my eyes!" "Moth!" cried Mrs. Comstock. "You say that because you are mad. Moths have big wings. I know a moth!"
Colonel Comstock, who visited the James River for the purpose of ascertaining the best point below Bermuda Hundred to which to march the army has not yet returned. It is now getting so late, however, that all preparations may be made for the move to-morrow night without waiting longer.
An abundant supply of rations is usually effective to keep matters quiet in such cases, so I fed them pretty freely, and also endeavored to control them through certain men who, I found, because of former associations, had their confidence. These men, employed as scouts, or interpreters, were Mr. William Comstock, Mr. Abner S. Grover, and Mr. Richard Parr.
Then, when they fly, the lower wings flash out and they are red and black, or gold and black, or pink and black, or dozens of bright, beautiful colours combined with black. No one ever has classified all of them and written their complete history, unless the Bird Woman is doing it now. She wants everything she can get about them." "I remember," said Mrs. Comstock. "They are mighty pretty things.
Go to bed, and for any sake don't begin mooning before a mirror, and make a dunce of yourself." Mrs. Comstock picked up several papers and blew out the kitchen light. She stood in the middle of the sitting-room floor for a time and then went into her room and closed the door.
Tower, forfeited his claim to me, and gave me a right to freedom, but if he chose to join issue, they would have the case tried in the Supreme Court; but this proposition the Captain declined: he knew well enough that it would result in my favor; and after some flattery and coaxing, he left me with my friend, Mr. Comstock, in liberty and peace! The business affairs of Capt.
I'll do the rest. Would you like to come and be my boy, Billy?" Billy leaned against Mrs. Comstock, reached his arms around her neck and gripped her with all his puny might. "You can whip me all you want to," he said. "I won't make a sound." Mrs. Comstock held him closely and her hard face was softening; of that there could be no doubt.
"If you are Billy Comstock," grunted Thornton, "well, I'm damn' glad to know you, sir!" "If I am?" grinned Comstock. "And why should I lie to you?" "I'm not saying that you are lying," returned the cowboy coolly. "But I'm getting in the habit these days of being suspicious, I guess. But if you are that Comstock and want to see me, I'd come mighty close to guessing what you want.
I am sure we shall get at the bottom of the thing now sure that there will be no more that this is truly the end. These gentlemen are from Scotland Yard, dearest, and they say it surely will be." "Heaven knows I hope so," replied Miss Comstock, acknowledging the introduction to Cleek and Narkom by a gentle inclination of the head. "But indeed, I can't hope, Jim indeed, I cannot, gentlemen.
Shortly after the adventures mentioned in the preceding chapter, I had my celebrated buffalo hunt with Billy Comstock, a noted scout, guide and interpreter, who was then chief of scouts at Fort Wallace, Kansas.
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