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They ain't got anything on me," he added in a hoarse whisper which bespoke his terror, "unless you shhh!" "I know what it is," Tom whispered, "and I ain't a-scared. They got a signal from the destroyer. They know the room." "There's nothing they can find here," his brother breathed. "They were all through here last night. Put that dish down put it down, I tell you! Shh!"
"Rats?" he said. "Aye, very likely! This is Ratisbon, old man, but don't bark about it. Incident of the French Camp: 'Smiling, the rat fell dead." Bock paid no heed to this persiflage, but prowled the front end of the cellar, looking upward in curious agitation. He growled again, softly. "Shhh," said Roger gently. "Never mind the rats, Bock. Come on, we'll stoke up the fire and go to bed.
The woman stared at him a moment, then laughed insolently and snapped her smoke-yellowed fingers at him in defiance. "Mind you show up in court, in the mornin'!" panted the officer, staggering downstairs under the weight of Gabriel's huge shoulders. "Better arrest her now," suggested Caffery, "an' hold her." "You will, like Hell!" retorted the woman. "Shhh!
There was something of the old stalking and trailing stealth about his movements now as he hurried across the field adjacent to the camp. "Follow me," he whispered, "and do just what I do. What's that you've got in your hand?" "Nothin'. Where you goin'? The road ain't over there." "Shhh!" Silently Tom stole across the field. "You're goin' out of your way," whispered Archer again.
Donnelle is a deep-dyed spy all right, but he's sure a high-brow. "You'd have to take an elevator to get up to him," I whispered to Pee-wee. "Shhh," Pee-wee said, "maybe he isn't dyed so very deep there's different shades of dyes." "Maybe he's only dyed a light gray or a pale blue," I said. Then Mr.
Beside it was a celluloid rhinoceros; tight in his hand a torn picture of Old King Cole. "Shhh!" said Carol, quite automatically. She tiptoed in to pat the pillow. As she returned to Erik she had a friendly sense of his waiting for her. They smiled at each other. She did not think of Kennicott, the baby's father.
Oliver helped carry folding chairs from the back of the bus. A van drove up. Its horn tooted twice, and a short round man popped out. He was holding a stick adorned with feathers and bells. He stamped it on the ground and shook it. When he had everyone's attention, he said, "Bogdolf's the name; merriment's the game!" "Good grief," Oliver said. "Shhh, he's the Lore Keeper," Jennifer explained.
But there was a peculiar circumstance. The friction cover at one of its ends hung open. There was a trailing wisp of stellene part of the bubb packed inside and a thin, angry face with rather hysterical eyes, within the helmet of an Archer Five. "Shhh it ain't safe for me to come out yet," Glen Tiflin hissed threateningly. "Damn you all if you dare queer me...!" "Cripes another Jonah!"
The boys stood still, the rain pounding down on their plastic headgear, holding rifles ready and straining their ears for some sound other than the drumming of rain. "I don't hear anything," said Roger. "Shhh!" hissed Astro. They waited, and then from a distance they heard the faint crashing of underbrush. Gradually it became more distinct until there was no mistaking its source.
But "Tiger" Waldron, possessed of something of the instinct of the beast whose name he bore, subconsciously sensed a peril in his nearness. The man's ear if unusually quick might, just might possibly have caught a word or two meant for no interloper. And at that thought, Waldron once more nudged his partner. "Shhh!" he repeated, "Enough. We can finish this, in the limousine."
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