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The fellow made a dash with his hand at a red forelock, and in his crooked gait went through the gangway and walked away up to the wharf, just as Mr Eagle rose out of the main-hatch. "She floats in like a swan," said Miss Acton. He picked up his hat and bounded outside. He found Croaker seated on the chicken yard fence, gravely surveying his ancient and mortal enemy, the old game cock, and whispering guttural insults that fairly made the rooster bristle with anger..
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"And you, too," he whispered. "With all this, I have you, too." "Course we got real scared then—leastwise Johnston thought we was—an' Jim he ups an' tells him that we fergot to latch the gate an' let the horse out. Then Johnston got real mean—meaner than I ever see him get, an' that's sayin' quite a lot. He said he would turn back with us an' interview—that's the word he used, whatever it means—interview our fathers. All eyes switched from the teacher to Fatty Watland. Fatty, his face very red, rose slowly and stood before the frowning Mr. Johnston. Ringold hung his hat on the stovepoker and got down to business at once. "Say, Tom, I've had an offer for my back hundred. Don' know whether to sell or not. Thought I'd like to hear what you'd advise.".
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