Black Caesar's Clan : a Florida Mystery Story by Albert Payson Terhune
page 119 of 264 (45%)
page 119 of 264 (45%)
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"Music's a fine thing, I'm told. But it doesn't spray a
grapefruit orchard or keep the scale off of mango trees. Come up to the house. I want to show you over the island and have a chat with you about the job I have in mind." As Milo strode on the two others fell in step behind him. Brice lowered his voice and said to the sulking Roke: "That collie belongs to Mr. Standish. I did you a good turn it seems by keeping you from stealing him. You'd have been in a worse fix than you are now, if Mr. Standish had come over here to-day and found him on the island." Roke did not deign to reply, but moved a little farther from the speaker. "At this rate," said Brice pleasantly. "you and I are likely to have a jolly time together, out here. I can' imagine a merrier chum for a desert island visit. I only hope I won't neglect my work chatting with you all day." Roke eyed him obliquely as he plodded on, and his battered lip-corner lifted a little in what looked like a beast snarl. But he said nothing. Then they were at the shallow porch of the hut and Milo Standish had thrown open its iron door letting out a gush of golden melody from the violin. At his hail. the music ceased. And Rodney Hade, fiddle in hand, appeared in the doorway. |
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