Yurik Bethune Jersey

I made no reply. He looked momentous, leaned to me sidewise with a hand horizontally across his mouth, and whispered a name. It was new to me. "Charlie Toliver?" I murmured, for we were at the tent door.

"Has he a taste for fiction?" I asked, with a depreciative smirk.

"Good-evening," replied the nearer man. "How far is it to camp--Austin's?"

"Yes," I responded, "and without even waiting for Diana."

His son's attitude exasperated him. "You know this ain't ever been our way; you'd say so, yourself, ef you wa'n't skin full o' china-ball whiskey! What in all hell is the reason we can't do him as we've always done the others?"

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