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He stood there for some time, unrecognized, unnoticed, watching the platoons of broad-chested "flatties" as they swung out and off to their midnight patrols, marking the plainly clad "elbows" as they passed quietly up and down the great stone steps. He thought of Copeland, and the Commissioner, and of his own last hour at Headquarters.

He could follow them as they went, those confident-striding "flatties" with their ash night-sticks at their side, soldiers without bugles or banner, going out to do the goodly tasks of the Law, soldiers of whom he was once the leader, the pride, the man to whom they pointed as the Vidoc of America. And he would go back to them as great as ever. He would again compel their admiration.

In that case, these cheap flatties would geezle him and make for the Union Pacific railroad without stopping to say good-by to the hills. And once they get to the railroad, it's all off with the young man in Chicago who is soon to be tried for murder." While the boys discussed the situation, Katz caught sight of the moving figure in the entrance to the cavern.

Maybe when I get back I'd try workin' at it steady if you flatties would only keep off me back. Anything else you wanted to find out?" His tone was sneering almost. "If there's not, I think I'll try to take a nap." "Not now but I'd like to talk to you again about some things when we're both rested up." "Have it your own way.

It seemed to him that Cullen was clinging to an opinion which might cause himself and friends serious trouble. "Gee!" he whispered to Tommy, "I wish we could get these flatties to follow the cowboys! I'm afraid they'll catch Wagner if they hang around that cave over there!" "I'm afraid they will!" replied Tommy.

Fish are abundant in the river and pools, but the people will not trouble themselves to catch them. However, for eighteenpence or two shillings, you may get a good dish of mutteel, carp, or a small fish called "flatties." I have never seen any of the salmon tribe, or any fish like a sea or river trout.

They had merely to pick up inert and unresisting beche-de-mer from among the coral five fathoms down, where the deceptive sea looked no more than ten feet deep under the squalid flatties; to smoke and jabber in idle moments; to eat and to sleep, and to listen to Mammerroo's version of the opening phrases of "The Last Rose of Summer" on a mouth-organ worn with inveterate usage to the bold brass.

Poor Bloom! A split is gone for the flatties. Nip the first rattler. THE FIRE BRIGADE: Pflaap! THE CITIZEN: Thank heaven!