Felix fell. Colonel Nef, his pistol held at the hip, tilted it toward Hartford. He looked startled for a moment, then dropped the pistol. In his wrist were three blowgun-darts. Clustered across his chest were half a dozen more. Hartford waved at the Kansans on the ledge. "Arigato!" he shouted, and told them to come down.
Any Thrid official, to whom it was impossible to be mistaken, would develop eccentric notions.
"Still support and comfort me----" He remembered her protest--how shocked she had been at his personal rendering of the words, how he had said in the rain that morning--the morning on which he had told her he loved her--that he meant to protect and support her as long as he lived. How had he kept his vow?
Here are some good ones from a little book called “Philosophy of the Street,” by E. R. Petherick, of Merrill, Wisconsin. There are hundreds more in the book as good, and that is saying much:
We dodged round the trees, and the one of us pursued him as he made after the other; but he would not be dissuaded by this, and kept after me until, at last, I began to lose my wind, and shouted to Angus for help, who, however, could do nothing against an angry man armed with a great cane; and I began to grow anxious in my mind, when who should come up but our Spaniard, who, seizing the situation, at once turned the tables completely by a flank attack, and our Frenchman was soon left lamenting, with his wig up a tree, his cane broken, and more Spanish oaths ringing in his ears than I dare say he had ever heard before. It was like my Uncle Scottos swearing.
"ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR; ONE, TWO, THREEP—FURP!" The men of The Terrible Third were grinning through the face-plates of their helmets, rejoicing in their reputation as the loudest bunch in the Regiment, happy to help Hartford in waging his mock-feud with Lieutenant Piacentelli. They'd been classmates at the Axenite Academy; they'd been room-mates in the Barracks until Pia's recent marriage to a Service Company officer.
Presently she stole an eye-lashed look at me, and added: “And at times he’s so hard.”
“Well, as I was saying,” continued Mrs. Opalsen, “I came up. I went to the drawer here,”—she indicated the bottom right-hand drawer of the knee-hole dressing-table—“took out my jewel-case and unlocked it. It seemed quite as usual—but the pearls were not there!”
“Huh! we may be so far as the Germans and
"Which you always declare to despise, and which you know I detest."
Last nite was a nite of shocks. Mr. John cum down to the bastemint and taks possisshun after dinner of me privat dining-rume. The widder do be giving him a barskit full of seeds, frish picked from her gardin, and he’s after wanting he ses to sort thim out and mark the reyspictiv packages so he may know them nixt Spring whin hes going to have a fine gardin.
little girl more and more; but for him there was no “ought” about the matter.
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