Marjorie sat on the blanket with her back to the fire and waited for Nick.

He brought his son Eddy, and another Indian named Billy Tabeshaw with him.

He filled the pitcher with the dipper with cold spring water from the pail.

Carts were jammed solid on the bridge with camels bobbing along through them.

They moved the cots back out of the rain and covered them with rubber blankets.

He went out to the kitchen and came back with two glasses and a pitcher of water.

He mounted on the edge of the lower bunk with the lamp in one hand and looked in.

The train, with Nick on it, had passed through Kalkaska as it started to get dark.

After supper they went into the front room again and Liz cleaned off with Mrs. Smith.

Before I could answer her eyes fastened with an awed expression on her little finger.

“Tom’s getting very profound,” said Daisy, with an expression of unthoughtful sadness.

At the start of the winter came the permanent rain and with the rain came the cholera.

There was a woman having a kid with a young girl holding a blanket over her and crying.

Yup. That’s the one where they go to bed every night with the naked sword between them.

Doing a Caesarian with a jackknife and sewing it up with nine-foot, tapered gut leaders.

When they fired the first volley he was sitting down in the water with his head on his knees.

Women and kids were in the carts, crouched with mattresses, mirrors, sewing machines, bundles.

Nick came in with the log through the kitchen and in passing knocked a pan off the kitchen table.

He was a good horseshoer and did not look much like a blacksmith even with his leather apron on.

After an infinitesimal hesitation he included Daisy with a slight nod, and she winked at me again.

He wasn’t sitting in front of the fire or going fishing tomorrow with Bill and his dad or anything.

Now he was a sturdy straw-haired man of thirty, with a rather hard mouth and a supercilious manner.

The vineyards were thin and bare-branched too and all the country wet and brown and dead with the autumn.

He reported at Bologna, and I took him with me up into the Romagna where it was necessary I go to see a man.

He was very short with a brown face and quite drunk and he said, “After all, it has happened before like that.”

The lumber schooners came into the bay and were loaded with the cut of the mill that stood stacked in the yard.

When they came toward him with the cap to go over his head Sam Cardinella lost control of his sphincter muscles.

When they had to say goodbye, in the station at Milan, they kissed goodbye, but were not finished with the quarrel.

She worked out from under him and sat up and straightened her skirt and coat and tried to do something with her hair.

“Aren’t you going back to work, dear?” asked the doctor’s wife from the room where she was lying with the blinds drawn.

Her grey sun-strained eyes looked back at me with polite reciprocal curiosity out of a wan, charming, discontented face.

In back of them was the close second-growth timber of the point and in front was the bay with the mouth of Hortons Creek.

The plain was rich with crops; there were many orchards of fruit trees and beyond the plain the mountains were brown and bare.

They walked up from the beach through a meadow that was soaking wet with dew, following the young Indian who carried a lantern.

Evidently it surprised her as much as it did me, for she yawned and with a series of rapid, deft movements stood up into the room.

“Those must boil,” he said, and began to scrub his hands in the basin of hot water with a cake of soap he had brought from the camp.

In the early morning on the lake sitting in the stern of the boat with his father rowing, he felt quite sure that he would never die.

Each time Nick set a heavy slab of driftwood across the butt of the rod to hold it solid and propped it up at an angle with a small slab.

So I went down and caught up with them and grabbed him while he was crouched down waiting for the music to break loose and said, “Come on, Luis.”

At this point Miss Baker said: “Absolutely!” with such suddenness that I started⁠—it was the first word she had uttered since I came into the room.

All my aunts and uncles talked it over as if they were choosing a prep school for me, and finally said, “Why⁠—ye-es,” with very grave, hesitant faces.

She was a slender, small-breasted girl, with an erect carriage, which she accentuated by throwing her body backward at the shoulders like a young cadet.

There were small gray motorcars that passed going very fast; usually there was an officer on the seat with the driver and more officers in the back seat.

I never saw this great-uncle, but I’m supposed to look like him⁠—with special reference to the rather hard-boiled painting that hangs in father’s office.

When a trout, feeding on the bottom, took the bait it would run with it, taking line out of the reel in a rush and making the reel sing with the click on.

Some men picked Maera up and started to run with him toward the barriers through the gate out the passage way around under the grandstand to the infirmary.

The horse’s entrails hung down in a blue bunch and swung backward and forward as he began to canter, the monos whacking him on the back of his legs with the rods.

In the evenings he read the Toledo Blade and the Grand Rapids paper by the lamp in the front room or went out spearing fish in the bay with a jacklight with A. J. Smith.

Finally the bull was too tired from so much sticking and folded his knees and lay down and one of the cuadrilla leaned out over his neck and killed him with the puntillo.

She didn’t want to go to bed yet because she knew Jim would be coming out and she wanted to see him as he went out so she could take the way he looked up to bed with her.