The Last of the Chiefs: A Story of the Great Sioux War

Nonfiction, Religion & Spirituality, New Age, History, Fiction & Literature
Cover of the book The Last of the Chiefs: A Story of the Great Sioux War by Joseph Alexander Altsheler, Library of Alexandria
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Author: Joseph Alexander Altsheler ISBN: 9781465537706
Publisher: Library of Alexandria Publication: March 8, 2015
Imprint: Language: English
Author: Joseph Alexander Altsheler
ISBN: 9781465537706
Publisher: Library of Alexandria
Publication: March 8, 2015
Imprint:
Language: English
Neville-Smith’s theory, arrived at after careful thought, was that the supreme governing powers of the universe had taken a sudden dislike to Bray Lench. He refused to listen to any Other. “Look at the evidence,” he said, as we sat over our coffee. “Jimmy couldn’t come. Got the flu. So far, nothing to grumble about. Anybody might get the flu, even our only decent three-quarter on the eve of our big match. Very well. Then young Thorn goes and falls off a ladder. Sprains his ankle. On top of that, Giles, our best forward, trips over his feet as he’s going to church and crocks his wrist. And on top of that, Somers, who’s pretty nearly as useful in the pack as Giles, gets a spill from his bicycle and has to go to bed for a week. It’s spite, that’s what it is. Petty spite.” “What are you going to do about it?” I asked. He took the question literally, and instead of explaining how he was going to get back at Fate, told me how he proposed to reconstruct the team, which I had heard before
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Neville-Smith’s theory, arrived at after careful thought, was that the supreme governing powers of the universe had taken a sudden dislike to Bray Lench. He refused to listen to any Other. “Look at the evidence,” he said, as we sat over our coffee. “Jimmy couldn’t come. Got the flu. So far, nothing to grumble about. Anybody might get the flu, even our only decent three-quarter on the eve of our big match. Very well. Then young Thorn goes and falls off a ladder. Sprains his ankle. On top of that, Giles, our best forward, trips over his feet as he’s going to church and crocks his wrist. And on top of that, Somers, who’s pretty nearly as useful in the pack as Giles, gets a spill from his bicycle and has to go to bed for a week. It’s spite, that’s what it is. Petty spite.” “What are you going to do about it?” I asked. He took the question literally, and instead of explaining how he was going to get back at Fate, told me how he proposed to reconstruct the team, which I had heard before

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