United States or Germany ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"If I can get down yonder to Goodloe's wire in time to catch the super's special before it passes Timanyoni" he went on, only to drop his jaw and gasp when he held the face of his watch up to the moonlight. Then, brokenly, "My God! I couldn't begin to do it unless I had wings: he said eleven o'clock, and it's ten-ten right now!"
True, they got it out with the help of the hand extinguishers before it did any serious damage, for Nulty had gone at it on the jump; but while it lasted the burning oil on the car floor looked dangerous. Anyway, it was bad enough so that they couldn't hide it when they got into Big Cloud and Hawkeye and Toddles went on the carpet for it the next morning in the super's office.
"Been looking over the reports, and see your crew is getting out more ore'n any of the others," the super's voice held just a tinge of anxiety, and Hanlon began probing that mind to see if he could discover just what all this portended. "I just keep 'em at it," he shrugged. "No trouble?" "Nope, no trouble. Look at 'em," he waved his hand at the busy crew.
As he walked he speculated on the probable fate of Dyson, relying on literature unbefriended by a thoughtful relative; and could not help concluding that so much subtlety united to a too vivid imagination would in all likelihood have been rewarded with a pair of Sandwich-boards or a super's banner.
"He your pet, Pete?" one asked mockingly. "No, he's not my pet, Pete," the super's voice mimicked the tone, although his face went red at the accusation. "I just don't want this camp messed up with any feuds. That'd cut down production, and the Big Boy wants this ore out fast.
There was incredulity in the super's voice and manner. "Yep, it's me," Hanlon grinned. "I'm glad nothing happened to any of you." "Hmmpff!" Philander snorted defeatedly. "What's the difference between being killed cleanly in a fight, as against a lifetime in prison, or a firing squad?" "You'll get neither one," Hanlon said quietly, remembering the power he, as a Secret Service operative, carried.
Old Malachi is going further out, and if danger occurs, we shall know it from him, for the sake of the boy, and have his help too, if we need it." "There is much good sense in Martin Super's remarks, Mr Campbell," observed Captain Sinclair. "You will then have Malachi Bone as an advanced guard, and the fort to fall back upon, if necessary to retreat."
He grinned into the super's face. "Must be my manly charms er sumpin'," he chuckled. Then sobered. "Maybe one reason is that I rotate 'em. Any job gets monotonous, so every hour or so I let 'em change around, from pick to barrow to sorting, and so on." A frown of annoyance came onto Philander's face, but he quickly erased it.
Old Malachi is going further out, and if danger occurs, we shall know it from him, for the sake of the boy, and have his help too, if we need it." "There is much good sense in Martin Super's remarks, Mr. Campbell," observed Captain Sinclair. "You will then have Malachi Bone as an advanced guard, and the fort to fall back upon, if necessary to retreat."
Such as scrawling with chalk on Hanlon's room door, "Super's pet"; continually upsetting Hanlon's beverage cup, or "accidentally" dropping things in Hanlon's plate of food. The young SS man could have moved to another place at the table, but he wouldn't give the big guard that satisfaction. But one of Gorton's tricks backfired to such an extent that it had disastrous results for Gorton himself.
Word Of The Day