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He stared at Ginsburg and a derisive grin opened a gap in his broad dark face. "Oh, be chee! We ain't strangers you and me ain't! We've met before when we was kids. Down in Henry Street, it was. I put me mark on you oncet, and if I ever feel like it I'll do it again sometime."
"Definitely," agreed Calhoun. "She's not doing this for her personal advantage. Whatever she thinks she'd doing, it's more important to her than her own life. Murgatroyd...." "Chee?" said Murgatroyd in an inquiring tone. "There are wild cattle on Orede," said Calhoun. "Herds and herds of them. I have a suspicion that somebody's been shooting them. Lots of them. Do you agree?
His springin' that grin was a hunch for me to hold the decision. "How long you been keepin' Corrugated stocks from goin' below par?" says I. That stuns him for a minute, and then a light breaks. He throws another grin. "Oh, about a year," he says. "Chee!" says I. "And they ain't put you on the board of directors yet?" "I've managed to keep off so far," says he.
Some were no doubt true to life while others were caricatures of the persons whom they represented. It might be styled an Eden Musée. Leaving the musician's, after giving him a suitable fee for entertaining us, we turned our footsteps towards the Chee Kung Tong. This is a Chinese secret society.
Then he saw Murgatroyd sniffing at the chest now holding the container of live scavengers. Open, it had had a faint but utterly disgusting odor. Locked up, Calhoun could not smell it. But Murgatroyd could. He sniffed. He said impatiently to Calhoun: "Chee! Chee-chee!" Calhoun stared. His lips tightened.
Off to my right, in a piece of rank grass, where branches of dock had sprung up, bobolinks were swinging the pale, green sprays, filling the air with melody. "Bobolink, bobolink, spirk, spank, spink, chee, chee, chee!" I knew that "Mrs. Robert of Lincoln" was sitting contentedly on her little round nest, under a tuft of grass, very near the sweet singer.
Maril, four cups of coffee, please." Murgatroyd said "Chee?" The Med Ship was badly crowded with six humans and Murgatroyd in a space intended for Calhoun and Murgatroyd alone. The little tormal had spent most of his time in his cubbyhole, watching with beady eyes as so many people moved about on what had been a spacious ship before. "No coffee for you, Murgatroyd," said Calhoun.
The grain-ships were between Weald and its sun. Even electron telescopes on the ground and electron-telescopes were ultimately optical telescopes with electronic amplification even electron telescopes on the ground could not get a good image of the ship through sunlit atmosphere. "Chee?" asked Murgatroyd solicitously. "Chee-chee-chee?"
"'Come, Pat, sais I, 'blaze away now. Back goes the hind leg agin, up bends the back, and Bull-Dog rises slowly to his shoulder; and then he stared, and stared, until his arm shook like palsy. Chee, chee, chee, went the squirrel agin, louder than ever, as much as to say, 'Why the plague don't you fire?
I guess I'll stay right here and wait until you are so kind, so er very kind and obliging as to show me where I can find Spike." And he sighed plaintively as he lounged against the wall behind, but his eyes were surprisingly bright and quick beneath the shadow of the battered hat. "Hully Chee!" exclaimed the Spider, expectorating contemptuously, "hark to the flossy-boy, fellers!
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