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Scarcely had he ceased to speak before a command in Greek was given to halt and give the password. Before Ladice could realize what had happened, she heard the sounds of struggle. Her eyes, accustomed to the darkness, could faintly discern the gleam of weapons, but she dared not strike for she could not distinguish between the antagonists. She soon realized that they were not fighting near her, and a sudden fear seized her; they might miss their footing and slip over the edge of the declivity! She decided to raise her voice in warning, when the unmistakable sound of breaking twigs and loosened stones rolling down the precipice, convinced her that her worst fears were an actuality. Stunned with horror she stood for some time unable to decide what to do. At last dreading that Artabazus might by now be well on his way in pursuit of her, she pressed on in an agony of fear. The foliage was now a little thinner and she could see the first faint glow of dawn in the sky. Her physical progress was more rapid, but mentally she was stupified by the horror of her rescuer’s fate, and she did not hear the sounds of approaching footsteps till they were immediately behind her.
“Potted ham!” ses Mr. James, forgitting himself and the company.
"Killing him, Hatcher?"
When Jorgenson opened a door to kick him out of it, the whole staff of the trading-post plunged after him. They'd been eavesdropping and they fled in pure horror.
Jamie lived in the cheapest suburb of Midwestburg, and in one of the suburb’s cheapest houses. But the house had a yard. And the yard harboured a glorious old collie, a rare prize winner in his day. The house in front of the yard, by the way, harboured Jamie’s Yorkshire wife and their two children, Elspeth and Donald.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Miller, the man who’s on this case, is a smart chap. You may be very sure he won’t overlook a footprint, or a cigar-ash, or a crumb even. He’s got eyes that see everything.”
The general emotional reaction in America, as reflected by the newspapers, was not too happy. One read between the lines that for the Machine to beat a man was bad, but for a Russian to beat an American machine was worse. A widely-read sports columnist, two football coaches, and several rural politicians announced that chess was a morbid game played only by weirdies. Despite these thick-chested he-man statements, the elusive mood of insecurity deepened.
those who called them-selves “men,” who would point at his plain clothes of “blue jeans” and laugh at them, and try to get oth-ers to do the same. The great length of bod-y, the toil-worn hands, the back-woods ways made talk for foes, but Lin-coln bore these “flings” well, and oft-en used them for jokes.
A little group of English people stood outside the door of a first-class compartment, a saloon-shaped compartment that to those unaccustomed to travel in the East would perhaps have seemed luxurious; but in a country where journeys may last for days and nights on end a certain degree of comfort becomes a necessity. Mrs. Greaves had come to the station to see Mrs. Munro, her friend, and little Trixie Munro, her godchild, off to
had been traveled by Mr. Langford and the Harpes, had arrived within a few miles of Big Rockcastle River, when their cattle took fright, and, quitting the road, rushed down a hill into the woods. In collecting them, the drovers discovered the dead body of a man concealed behind a log, and covered with brush and leaves. It was now evident that the cattle had been alarmed by the smell of blood in the road, and, as the body exhibited marks of violence, it was at once suspected that a murder had been perpetrated but recently. The corpse was taken to the same house where the Harpes had breakfasted, and recognized to be that of Mr. Langford, whose name was marked upon several parts of his dress. Suspicion fell upon the Harpes, who were pursued and apprehended near Crab Orchard. They were taken to Stanford....”