Ag sat on the bed.

The day was very hot.

Then the bull was gone.

The street full of them.

Over to the Indian camp.

It was cold on the water.

The people were all kind.

Come on back to the hotel.

The room smelled very bad.

The sun shone on his face.

The whole town is desolate.

All the cells were occupied.

He felt it through the door.

“This is the queen,” he said.

He had been hit in the spine.

She knew it was for the best.

We walked through the garden.

It’s about the butler’s nose.

The two Indians stood waiting.

Up the street were other dead.

Just then the woman cried out.

We were going to the Champagne.

Someone had the bull by the tail.

Afterwards I saw him at the café.

You will if you stay in the East.

In the upper bunk was her husband.

Each time he felt the horn coming.

The king was working in the garden.

It belonged to Demaine, the oil man.

“What do you want?” asked the voice.

There were chimney swifts in the sky.

He loved the mountains in the autumn.

The little man sat looking at Manuel.

It rained all through the evacuation.

He cantered jerkily along the barrera.

The two boats started off in the dark.

“Retana,” he said and banged the door.

The shelling moved further up the line.

Things were getting forward in the town.

She was cool and fresh in the hot night.

Who the hell is going to make any trouble?

Uncle George gave both the Indians cigars.

“Who’s there?” said someone in the office.

He felt warm and sticky from the bleeding.

Greek cavalry herded along the procession.

This fellow has worked out the whole thing.

There were pools of water in the courtyard.

One of the ministers was sick with typhoid.

Three of the men to be hanged were negroes.

Do you want to hear about the butler’s nose?