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"Naw, why should there be? That's what you're supposed to do, if you get the chance—shoot 'em, an' get the reward." "The sails of that ship," cried the Captain, "must have been in sight some time before you reported her. When I came on deck she was hull up. Is this your idea of keeping a look-out?" Above him bent a face with tender blue eyes and red, half-smiling lips beneath a crowning glory as golden as frost-pinched maple leaf. And she would be at school in the morning! It was while pondering on how he might contrive to wear his Sunday clothes on the morrow that Billy fell asleep to dream that he was old man Scroggie's ghost and that he was sitting in the centre of Lake Erie with the big hardwoods bush on his knees, waiting for her to come that he might present it all to her..
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kez_ h (Kez_h)
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"Afraid, madam!"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
He felt in his vest pocket and fished out a ten dollar note, which he handed to Billy. "Maddoc and a party of other men were cruisin' in a yacht. They docked here last night," he explained. "Left at sunup for Cleveland."
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Conrad
She was within a couple of miles when she shaped herself out of the rain-thickened murkiness. The Aurora was making a free wind, and every stitch of canvas was doing its work. Was yonder stranger French or English? The Admiral and Captain Acton, who were both on deck, left Captain Weaver to his own devices, sensible that they were in the hands of a shrewd, well-seasoned, practical sailor, who knew his ship better than they did. "We'll test her," said he, and the tricolour was run aloft. No flag aboard the brig was to be seen in response. The schooner was crossing the stranger's bows when the brig suddenly let fly a shotted gun at her. Whatever her nationality it was plain she was not satisfied with the show of bunting flying aboard a vessel that any practised eye could at once see was not of French paternity. "Oh look at the dear little thing," cried the girl. "What do you suppose he's saying?" as the squirrel broke into a shrill chatter. And as she said this she suddenly lifted her eyes half-veiled, dark, and beaming to her father's face. She looked her wonder. "But, Billy, you'd think they would want to enjoy building their own homes, wouldn't you?".
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