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Every moment is dangerous; for the McGills have the spirit of victory strong upon them, and from their supporters on the side lines the triumphant and exasperating refrain is rising: "Got'em going, going, going, Got'em going home." And indeed for a few minutes it looks like it.
She gripped herself and her iron with a visible effort, and dabbed futilely at the frail, frilled garment on the board under her hand. "I thought she'd got'em again didn't you?" the girl said. "It's a shame, a women of her age, and... condition," Saxon answered, as she frilled a lace ruffle with a hot fluting-iron.
"We've got'em," said the young gentleman by my side, in a cheerful way. The officer with the megaphone looked across and smiled. "We may as well give them a salvo. They won't like it a bit." A second or two later there was a tremendous crash as the four guns fired together. "Repeat!" came the high voice through the megaphone.
Linderman, and he was not exaggerating greatly as to the time required to bring the gentlemen to him. "Know Mr. Linderman Crane and Keith?" said Scattergood. "Come in and set." "What do you want with pulp company stock?" Crane demanded. "Paper the kitchen. Maybe, if I kin git enough, I'll paper the parlor. Lack five hunderd shares for the parlor. Got'em with you?"
Suddenly the Flying Fish began to creep up on the hydroplane, which had slowed down for some reason. "Hurrah! We've got'em now!" shouted Merritt, as he saw, far ahead, Jack and the other two occupants of the seeming winner leaning over the craft's engine, the hood having been raised. Rob said nothing, but with burning eyes clung to the wheel and shot the Flying Fish straight ahead on her course.
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