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“All right,” said Jerry rather ungraciously. “But you’ll soon catch on to it when we start work. You’ll have to.” Bob was rather elated that his plan had worked so far and they started off mounted on a couple of bronchos that the stable in the lower camp provided. “What’s the matter with your life?” he asked quickly. “I’d want nothing better. To be with the Reclamation Service and to have Mr. Whitney for a boss seems pretty good to me!”.

"Sometimes it hurts." Then a cyclone happened to me.I tried logging in using my phone number and I was supposed to get a verification code text,but didn't get it. I clicked resend a couple time, tried the "call me instead" option twice but didn't get a call either. the trouble shooting had no info on if the call me instead fails.There was Major Jen's calls for least. His face was round and red, with a terrific blonde mustache fiercely curled. He had merry blue eyes, sparse hair, more than touched with gray, and an expression of good-humor which was the index to his character. Man, woman and child trusted Jen on the spot, nor was it ever said that such trust was misplaced. Even the most censorious could find no fault with the frank and kindly major, and he had more friends and more pensioners and fewer enemies than any man in the shire. Can any further explanation be required of so simple and easily understood a character?

“Lucky stiff!” he said pleasantly. “Beat me to it, didn’t you?” Evenings we knew, “It’s a dark outlook here for the young gentleman,” said Carlstrom. “The horse’s wind is broken.” “You mustn’t put those wet clothes on,” said one lady..