“Wate till it begins to bloom” ses she enthoosicully. Joost thin she seen her brothers coming in wid the bote oars on their shoulders. She started away from the dood, and wint narvissly to meet thim. The dood histated a moment, and then wint ap to the boys. He hild out his hand.
"That sounds like the way a man would play a game," Sandra observed. "Look ahead a little way and try to make a plan. You know, like getting out trumps in bridge or setting up a finesse."
Hartford lowered his bitcher to a confidential tone. "Square up, men; march tall; look rough and dirty. Show the Stinker girls what they're missing. HUP, HUP, HUP. Sling those rifles square. Mondrian, you march like you're wearing skis: HUP, twop, threep, furp!" Up and down the column came the commands of sergeants and platoon-commanders, getting their troopers in parade-trim for the march through Kansannamura: "Stinkerville." Somewhere up front a company was singing the anthem of the Axenite troopers, "Oh, Pioneers!" The chorus of twelve dozen men, their bitchers full-up, filled the Kansan air and echoed from the walls ahead.
I was accordingly imprisoned in Fort William, but suffered little, save from the confinement, which lasted over four months, when, by the exertions of my sister Margaret and her protector, Lady Jane Drummond, I was released.
in his saddle bags which was worth five hundred pounds.”
Chum eluded the man and started toward Link. Shunk made a wild grab for him. Chum’s ruff—a big handful of it—was seized in the clutching fingers. Again sounded that queer whistle. This time—thanks to the years of close companionship between dog and master—Chum caught its purport. Evidently, it had something to do with Shunk, with the man who had laid hold on him so unceremoniously.
Turner was reflectively twisting the ends of his neat moustache.
“Now me deer” ses the widder, “you must counteract at wanse the evil of this long oshun voyuge. You must follow the pair at wanse to Yurope.”
Which brings us by degrees to Jamie Mackellar, grandson 144of the emigrating Angus. Jamie was twenty-eight. His tough little body was so meagrely spare that his big heart and bigger soul were almost indecently exposed. For the rest, his speech still held an occasional word or two of handed-down ancestral dialect. In moments of excitement these inherited phrases came thicker; and with them a tang of Scots accent.
lately." He paused and warming to a closer confidence, went on, "The devil of it is that you never know what he's really after. If he got into a fearful pad, you'd know where you were, more or less. But he's always as cool as a cucumber. Makes you feel such an infernal ass."
“You mean he wrote it?” He smiled incredulously. “Why, the poor chap hadn’t any education!”详情 ➢
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