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Bock was standing on his hind legs, looking up at the front wall of the cellar, in which two small iron-grated windows opened onto the sunken area by the front door of the shop. He gave a low growl, and seemed uneasy. "What is it, Bock?" said Roger placidly, finishing his pipe. Bock gave a short, sharp bark, with a curious note of protest in it. But Roger's mind was still with Burton.
Roger dashed after him, but was too late. Aubrey was holding Metzger by the collar with the pistol at his head. "Good God," he said, "why didn't you shoot?" "I don't know" said Roger in confusion. "I was afraid of hitting him. Never mind, we can fix him later." "The police will be here in a minute," said Helen, calling from the telephone. "I'm going to let Bock in. He's in the back yard."
Hittaway returned to him, the awe with which new circumstances and the lord had filled him was fast vanishing, and giving place to that stubborn indignation against people in general which was his normal, condition. "I suppose I'm jist to gang bock again to Portray, Mrs. Heetaway, and that'll be a' you'll want o' me?" This he said the moment the lady entered the room. But Mrs.
"On the fifth shelf," said Roger. "Over there " "For God's sake stand back," said Aubrey. "Don't go near him. There's something damnable about this." "You poor fools!" cried Metzger harshly. "To hell with you and your old books." He drew his hand back as though to throw the volume at them. There was a quick patter of feet, and Bock, growling, ran down the aisle.
"I went to bed early, so that I might start out at daybreak. "My dog was already asleep on the floor, at the foot of my bed, when I put out the light. "I was awakened toward midnight by the furious barking of my dog Bock. I immediately noticed that my room was full of smoke. I jumped out of bed, struck a light, ran to the door and opened it. A cloud of flames burst in. The house was on fire.
One was a painful impression of meeting Mr. Bladen on the Boulevard des Capucines in company with a very pronounced young person whose laugh dismayed him, and when at last he escaped from the cafe where Mr. Bladen had hauled him to join them in a bock he felt as if the whole boulevard was looking at him, and judging him by his company.
It was found very favorable for the convalescent soldiers in the hospitals, but inferior to coffee or wine as a stimulant on the eve of battle. The old chroniclers of Bavaria relate this curious tale of the origin of the celebrated bock beer. There was one day in olden times at the table of the Duke of Bavaria, as guest, a Brunswick nobleman.
Then sticking his pipe into his whiskers, he called out anew: "Waiter, a 'bock. It makes me thirsty to keep calling so. I am not accustomed to that sort of thing. Yes, yes, I do nothing; I let things slide, and I am growing old. In dying I have nothing to regret. If so, I should remember nothing, outside this public house. I have no wife, no children, no cares, no sorrows, nothing.
In Africa, and elsewhere too, it is a widely-spread habit, that if a theft has been committed, the next clan has to restore the equivalent of the stolen thing, and then look itself for the thief. A. H. Post, Afrikanische Jurisprudenz, Leipzig, 1887, vol. i. p. 77. See Prof. See Carl Bock, The Head Hunters of Borneo, London, 1881.
True, it had been only a boast; never yet had he dared to lay violent hands upon her; but with the thoughts of the delicious, cool bock or Culmbacher bracing his nerves, he was near to upsetting his own theories of the treatment due by a gentleman to a lady.
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