The general had observed Carteret's annoyance, and remarked pleasantly while they waited for the servant's return: "Jerry, now, is a very good negro.

Turning to Jerry, I said, "Isn't there any danger here?" "Danger!" repeated Jerry, "of course there's danger, everywhere in this country.

Jerry isn't a bit of a flirt.

But while no one may be entirely wise, there are degrees of folly, and Jerry was not all kinds of a fool.

CHAPTER XIV HOW JERRY WAS TREED Jerry, that same morning, reached the camp of the old trapper without any trouble.

There was no proof that Dr. Mitchell knew Jerry to be a slave, none, surely, that he knew him to be the property of plaintiff, who was bound to give notice of ownership before he could be entitled to damages from defendant.

Jerry is now a member of death's "antic court," but his necrology may be interesting to the reader.

Jerry was an artist, it seemed.

[Illustration] Jerry was as good a driver as I had ever known; and what was better, he took as much thought for his horses as he did for himself.

Jerry was the brother of my college friend, Helen Weston.

Jerry was a fool "The world of fools hath such a store, That he who would not see an ass, Must stay at home and shut his door And break his looking-glass.

She said that she thought Jerry was a wonderful man, in some ways; that she never saw a man with such charm and magnetism, or one who could so readily adapt himself to different persons and circumstances.

Jerry was a swart-skinned, squat, bow-legged, efficient cowpuncher.

Jack was not to blame, nor was the pretty Señora Simpson, although Mrs. Jerry was quite innocently and unconsciously the cause.

(Jerry is my husband.)

XIII THE COMING OF THE STORM XIV HOW JERRY WAS TREED XV IN A BEAR'S HOLLOW XVI HEAPING COALS OF FIRE ON HIS HEAD XVII

Jerry was the world; and the world was lost.