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Bring your report up by one of these cars when you get back here. I'll go up above to the upper station with these people. It's going to rain. That will end the fire." He saluted sharply in return, and turned again to those under his personal charge. "Get into the car," he said. Mary Gage felt his hand steadying her arm.
"Well, I left my folks all alone up there," began Sim. "You did, eh? Well, they'll be there when you get back, won't they?" "I dunno, Doc " "Well, I don't know anything about it, if you don't. But tell me, how's the fishing up in there? Any grayling?" "All you want," said Sim Gage. "Come along up any time, and I'll take you out. But no, I guess maybe " Dr.
We'll have a green service cord on it, say green with a little white in it, Sim Gage? Don't that make you feel as if you were in a uniform?" "Now that'd sure be fine, Doc, a hat like that," said Sim. "I sure would like that. And I certainly would try to do what was right."
But when I added, "Did you ever read a poem about the end of the world by that City of Dreadful Night man?" Miss Gage impulsively caught me by the coat lapel and shook me. "Ah, it was you all the time! I knew there was somebody following us, and I might have KNOWN who it was!" We all gave way in a gale of laughter, and sat down on the verandah and had our joke out in full recognition of the fact.
When Howard Gage had gone, his mother's brother sat with his head bowed in frowning thought. The frown, however, was one of perplexity rather than disapproval: he was wholly unable to comprehend the younger man's attitude toward his experiences in the late war. The truth was, Charles Abbott acknowledged, that he understood nothing, nothing at all, about the present young.
He is one of the kind of fellows who doesn't know enough to play any other way." "Then Frank Merriwell's name is mud with a capital M." The plot was laid, the snare was set, but the game seemed wary. For some time Frank Merriwell remained away from those midnight gatherings in the room of the student who had committed suicide. "Hang the luck!" exclaimed Gage.
Sometimes Tom sent the craft low down, in order to get views, and again, it would be above the clouds. "Well, another day will bring us there," said Tom one evening, as he was loading the camera with a fresh roll of films. "Then we'll have to be on the lookout for an avalanche." "Yes, we're making pretty good time," remarked Ned, as he looked at the speed gage.
Herkimer began to speak of one thing and another, of Bennett, who had gone dramatically to the Transvaal; of Le Gage, who was now in the forefront of the younger group of landscapists; of the old types that still came faithfully to the Café des Lilacs, the old chess-players, the fat proprietor, with his fat wife and three fat children who dined there regularly every Sunday, of the new revolutionary ideas among the younger men that were beginning to assert themselves.
Jensen, who once more had cared for their household needs, "I reckon I'll go on down to the dam, on the mail coach this evening. You go in and tell her, won't you? Say I can't noways get back before to-morrow. I got to see about one thing and another. She'll understand." Therefore, when the mail wagon came down the valley an hour later, Sim Gage was waiting for it at the end of his own lane.
That is, the electrical discharge couldn't go beyond that distance." "I don't know what it was, but it went through the side of my house all the same," insisted Mr. Moker. "It didn't make a hole, but it scorched the wall paper a little." "I don't see how it could," declared Tom. "It couldn't possibly have gone over two hundred feet with the gage set for that distance."
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