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One, the woman who had screamed, prayed aloud in short hysterical sentences. "O God! Save them, O Lord! O Lord!" Orde stood on top of a half-buried log, his hat in his hand, his entire being concentrated on the manoeuvre being executed. Only Newmark apparently remained as calm as ever, leaning against an upright timber, his arms folded, and an unlighted cigar as usual between his lips.
The pile-driver placed the clumps; while the tug attended to the connecting defences. "Now, boys," said Orde as his last word, "if she starts to go, save yourselves the best way you can. Never mind the driver. Slowly the tug and her consort nosed up through the boiling water. "She's rising already," said Orde to Marsh, watching the water around the piles.
Sir William Parker, who was a very excellent naval officer, and as gallant a man as any in the navy, and Sir John Orde, who on all occasions of service had acquitted himself with great honour, each wrote to Lord Spencer, complaining that so marked a preference should have been given to a junior of the same fleet.
Orde has offered the Bill moved its being printed for his own justification to the country, and no more of it this session. We have the effects of a complete victory." Another question of much less importance, but more calculated to call forth Sheridan's various powers, was the Plan of the Duke of Richmond for the fortification of dock-yards, which Mr.
"That pull comes from the fact that old Gay is his first cousin, and that he seems to have some special drag with him." "The Republican chairman!" cried Welton. Baker leaned back. "About how much chance do you think Mr. Orde has of getting a hearing? Especially as all they have to do is to stand pat on the record. You'd better buy your extra fire-fighters."
Late in the afternoon he returned home. A telephone to Carroll apprised him that all was well with her. A few moments later the call sounded, and Orde took a message that caused him to look grave and to whistle gently with surprise. He ate supper with Bobby. About star-time he took his hat and walked slowly down the street beneath the velvet darkness of the maples.
The Christmas tree was stripped of everything but its decorations. Even some of the candles had burned dangerously low and had been extinguished. The servants had slipped away. "Here, youngster," admonished Mr. Orde, "aren't you going to get all your presents? You haven't looked behind the tree yet."
But Bishen Singh, who approached with a respectful salaam, had never heard of it, and he listened with a puzzled face and obviously feigned interest to Orde's account of its aims and objects, finally shaking his vast white turban with great significance when he learned that it was promoted by certain pleaders named by Orde, and by educated natives.
I ain't a-going to have my property interfered with no more." "But surely," said Orde, "we have a right to run our logs through. It's an open river." "And hev ye been running your logs through?" cried the old man excitedly. "Hev ye?
"Who's jam boss?" "Larsen." "Who's in charge of the river, then?" demanded Welton sharply. "Why, young Orde!" replied the riverman, surprised. "Since when?" "Since he blew up Murdock's piles." "Oh, he did that, did he? I suppose he fired Darrell, too?" "Sure. It was a peach of a scrap." "Scrap?" "Yep. That Orde boy is a wonder. He just ruined Roaring Dick." "He did, did he?" commented Welton.
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