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“What’s the row, Bob?” he wanted to know. “Jeremias the wood-cutter is ill in bed, too,” he said suddenly. By some chance the next picture was a lurid western romance in which Indians and cowboys were all jumbled together with furious riding and rescues of the beautiful heroine. Of course, the Indians in the picture were the villains. As the film unfolded the Mexicans grew more excited over the story and Bob noticed that they began to throw slighting remarks towards the Indian sitting directly in front of him..
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kez_ h (Kez_h)
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Conrad
Beauty, the youngest, was more polite, and thanked those who asked for her hand, but she was, as she told them, too young as yet, and wished to remain for a few more years as a companion to her father. If he only had something to give her—he himself. Of course Mother would find something, but he would like to, too. He hadn’t a cent in his bank. What few cents he had saved had all been poked out long since, and he hadn’t anything else either. Well, yes, he had that fine new cake of India ink Father had just given him; but Aunt Grenertsen surely did not draw with India ink. “All right,” said Bob laughing. “I reckon you’re lost. I’m beat, but I sure hope you will find that you picked the right thing for yourself.” Virtue's sigh, and Sorrow's moan!.
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