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Updated: June 11, 2025
Now that fellow Sidi bin Tagim in the hospital is an honest old kite in his way. He's a great rooter for Feisul. And the only easy way to ditch a man like Feisul, who's as honest as the day is long, and no man's fool, is to convince his fanatical admirers that for his own sake he ought to be forced along a certain course. The game's as old as Adam.
Worry was smilingly thoughtful as his boys trotted in to bat. "Say, if you get a couple of runs this time we'll be It. Look at the students. Ready to fall out of the stands.... Peg, I'm glad Herne got a run. Now we won't think of a shut-out. That'll steady us up. And, boys, break loose now, for the game's ours." Dean started off with a clean single.
"I'm not a gamblin' man, sah." The Texan smiled. The bearded man exposed his teeth in a contemptuous leer. "From yore talk, yo're nothin' but a cheap cotton picker. Guess this game's too stiff fer yuh," he said. The expression of the Texan's face did not change, but curious little flecks of light appeared in his steellike eyes. He laughed quietly.
"Well, I have a cablegram here from Mr. Ames," stated Morgan, as he brought out the paper. "Read it." Marsh leaned forward, took the cablegram, read it gravely, and returned it to Morgan. "You have certainly got me tied up," he said. "Tight as a drum!" agreed Morgan. "The game's up, Marsh. You're coming with me to Headquarters."
"Pete Halleck, unlock your door. It's I it's Frank Lyman, and I've something to say to you babies. Open up!" The composite face of the gathering fell. With Lyman against them, who could be for them? Frank Lyman, oracle of Encina and father-confessor of Freshmen! Pete threw the paraphernalia into his wardrobe. "The game's up, fellows." He opened the door, admitting the Senior, and with him, alas!
I'm glad the big game's off. I'm so contented now I'm getting over-weight, and you'd bilk me again. But what's the matter? Did the bookies get you?" "No; I'll tell you all about it," and Bobby carefully explained the terms of his father's will and what they meant. Mr. Bates listened carefully, and when the explanation was finished he thought for a long time.
The lids flickered over the filmed eyes, and their greenness grew momentarily brighter, and filmed over again. "Put up your hands!" rapped Smith, "and attempt no tricks." His voice quivered with excitement. "The game's up, Fu-Manchu. Find something to tie him up with, Petrie." I moved forward to Smith's side, and was about to pass him in the narrow doorway.
I wish they'd hurry up. We'll not get through the last round before dark if they don't finish soon. You'll go round with me, won't you?" "If the game's over. They're playing twenty-minute halves, you know; so I guess it will be. I hope Blair will let me on this half. Have you seen Cloud?" "Yes; he's over on the seats. Who has his place?" "Ned Post; and Clausen's playing at right.
I'll kill you! Sure as God I'll kill you!" Longstreth stood perhaps ten feet from the table where his gun lay Duane saw him calculating chances. He was game. He had the courage that forced Duane to respect him. Duane just saw him measure the distance to that gun. He was magnificent. He meant to do it. Duane would have to kill him. "Longstreth, listen," cried Duane, swiftly. "The game's up.
"That mad game's finished, and finished so that I think I've done with sweet-hearting for as long as I live. Well, thank God! a man may get on very fairly though the woman that he made a fool of himself for flings back his love and turns him over for somebody else." Then, as if some unseen hand had dealt him a sudden thrust, he cried out, "Why did I ever see her? Why was I made to care for her?
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