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Miller's clear voice did not falter nor did his gaze, and Mitchell, handcuffs in evidence, looked perplexedly at Chief Connor. The latter was watching Miller like a lynx, and the Secret Service operatives closed up in the entranceway there was no chance to escape, handcuffs seemed unnecessary. The smile that crossed Heinrich's lips was cruel. "We will swing together, von Mueller," he said.
Tell us at once who you are." "Charles Miller Trent," was the calm reply. "Then why" Kathleen sprang to her feet "why were you masquerading as Karl von Mueller when I knew you in Germany?" "I beg your pardon, you did not know me in Germany." Kathleen crimsoned at the direct contradiction. "But you did know my cousin, Karl von Mueller."
This spot was distant about ninety miles from Fort Mueller, in a straight line. The day was cool and breezy.
"We've got to stay right here and take all the taunts that come along." "Nobody shall taunt me," cried Jackson. "If they try it I'll punch somebody's nose." "And to think we lost our money, too," said Ben Hurdy, after a pause. "That's what makes me sick." "Reckon you didn't lose much," said Lew Flapp, with a sickly grin. "I lost all I had, and that's enough." "Who won it?" "Hans Mueller.
In my first and second expeditions, the object I had in view was to push across the continent, from different starting points, upon the South Australian Transcontinental Telegraph Line, to the settled districts of Western Australia. My first expedition was fitted out entirely by Baron von Mueller, my brother-in-law, Mr. G.D. Gill, and myself.
"What do you make it, sir?" asked Frank of Lord Hastings. "I should say it is one of the Cocos Islands group," was the reply. The Emden headed straight for it. Two hours later she landed, and the Sylph stood off. "Do you suppose Captain von Mueller will desert the ship or sink her?" asked Jack. "Not without a fight," replied Lord Hastings positively.
On the next page some essays were written about the value of art, about its future, about the interrelationship of individual arts, about the architecture of literary style, about the new primitives who, according to Mueller, would bring about a victorious revolution in the life of art. The essays almost filled the notebook. Mr.
In 1869, a report having spread in Western Australia of the massacre of some white people by the natives somewhere to the eastwards of Champion Bay, on the west coast, the rumour was supposed to relate to Leichhardt and his party; and upon the representations of Baron von Mueller to the West Australian Government, a young surveyor named John Forrest was despatched to investigate the truth of the story.
"Have you discovered a gold mine?" "Better than that, Dick. I've discovered what we are going to do with ourselves this summer." "I thought we were going back to the farm, to rest up, now that the term at Putnam Hall is at an end." "Pooh! Who wants to rest? I've rested all I wish right in this encampment." "Well, what's the plan? Don't keep us in 'suspenders, as Hans Mueller would say."
It was rough sport, not to be approved, but "boys will be boys," and it is practically impossible to stop hazing even in the highest of our institutions of learning. It was poor Hans Mueller who was the first to suffer that night. In the midst of the darkness, for there was no moon, Hans found himself suddenly aroused from his slumbers by being dragged out of his cot by the feet.
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