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Connor, Ralph, Pseudonym, 1860-1937

"The Sky Pilot, a Tale of the Foothills"


"Hain't got no use for it, seemingly," was the answer from the dark
corner.
"Old Scotchie takes his religion out in prayin', I guess," drawled in
Bill, "but wants to sponge for his plant."
This reference to Robbie's proposal to use the school moved the
youngsters to tittering and made the little Scotchman squirm, for he
prided himself upon his independence.
"There ain't $700 in the hull blanked outfit." This was a stranger's
voice, and again Robbie squirmed, for he rather prided himself also on
his ability to pay his way.
"No good!" said another emphatic voice. "A blanked lot o' psalm-singing
snipes."
"Order, order!" cried the chairman.
"Old Windbag there don't see any show for swipin' the collection, with
Scotchie round," said Hi, with a following ripple of quiet laughter, for
Williams' reputation was none too secure.
Robbie was in a most uncomfortable state of mind. So unusually stirred
was he that for the first time in his history he made a motion.
"I move we adjourn, Mr. Chairman," he said, in a voice which actually
vibrated with emotion.
"Different here! eh, boys?" drawled Bill.
"You bet," said Hi, in huge delight. "The meetin' ain't out yit."
"Ye can bide till mor-r-nin'," said Robbie, angrily. "A'm gaen hame,"
beginning to put on his coat.


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