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"They don't seem to want to use them." "Well, it doesn't add up, to me," Jack said. "There are thousands of towns and cities down there, all of them miles apart, and yet they had to go dig an old rusty jet scooter out of storage and get the motor rebuilt just specially to take us from one place to another.
"I'm so busy, girls; will you let me buy trees and ornaments, for my share?" asked Shirley. "Oh, that's fine. All right, put it down, Kit. And I will be on the committee to beg old toys. And we'll all get to work and make repairs. I have a dandy scooter bike, but it needs paint." A few days later they had a list of needy ones. "Oh, here's a nice big family for us," cried Bet. "It's Mrs.
The words were hardly out of her mouth before another sound escaped her which she hastily caught back as though instinct had stifled it in her throat. "Look!" she gasped. Peter was nearest to her. He had bent to release Scooter, but like a streak of light he straightened himself.
Netta gasped hysterically, horrified but still angry. "It serves him right serves you both right! Now go away!" she said. Tessa turned on her knees on the floor. Scooter was feebly kicking in her arms. The missile had struck him on the head and one eye was terribly injured. She gathered him up to her little narrow chest, and he ceased to kick and became quite still.
Lunch over, Tom hopped a jet scooter and sped off to his private laboratory. The modernistic glass-walled structure designed by Tom himself had every tool of modern scientific research, from electronic microscope to helium cryostat. As always, whenever he was absorbed in a new idea, Tom was eager to get to work. "Let's see what I'm shooting for.
We scared him away, that's for sure. But what was he doing here?" Scotty considered. "If he wanted to reach the mine area without people noticing him, he could park his scooter here and walk over the hill." "He could," Rick agreed. "But why would he want to reach the mine area?" "Not to sell Frostola. That's for sure." "Uh-uh. My guess is he has to reset the Blue Ghost." "Reset it?" "Sure.
After that, it was easy." "I saw the rescue," the Frostola man said. "You came out the same way you went in. That fooled me completely; I just figured you hadn't gone beyond the pile of rocks between the tunnels." A trooper sergeant pointed to the police car waiting on the dirt road. "Come on. We'll take a ride to town and get you booked. Don't worry about your scooter. It will be taken care of."
"A new man wouldn't know the way out here, and if he asked, he'd be told that people are staying away because of the ghost." "True. Your thoughts are as lucid as Costin's Creek, ol' buddy. Also, he is not the typical ice-cream salesman, and he's not from around here. He's a little old for riding a scooter cart, and the look on his face and the way he carries himself are wrong.
The chase of the elusive Scooter that followed would have been an affair of pure pleasure to the child, had it not been for the presence of her mother and the growing exasperation with which she regarded it.
He traveled to the mine area when no customers could be found there. He was curious about a cement bag. He didn't fit the character of an ice-cream route man. Rick headed straight for the picnic ground. There was no sign of the Frostola scooter, which meant the man had left right behind them, otherwise they would have met him on the road on the return trip.
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