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The signalers at the instruments, the sergeants who gathered them in and sent them forth, gave little or no thought to the orderlies. These men were hardly more than shadows, things which brought them long screeds to be translated to the tapping keys, hands which would stretch into the candle-light and lift the messages that had just "buzzed" in over their wires.
'Why, to tell you the truth, said Puff, looking rather sheepish, 'to tell you the truth I intended I thought at least of of of hunting them myself. 'Ah! that's another pair of shoes altogether, as we say in France, replied Bragg, with a low bow and a copious round of the hand to the hat. 'That's another pair of shoes altogether, repeated he, tapping his boot with his whip.
"Here's how," they muttered softly to the Virginian; and "How," he returned softly, looking away from them. But they had a brief meeting of eyes, standing and lounging near each other, shyly; and Scipio shook hands with the bridegroom. "Some day," he stated, tapping himself; for in his vagrant heart he began to envy the man who could bring himself to marry.
"But avast," he added, tapping his forehead, "you haint no objections to sharing a harpooneer's blanket, have ye? I s'pose you are goin' a-whalin', so you'd better get used to that sort of thing." "I thought so. All right; take a seat. Supper? you want supper? Supper'll be ready directly." I sat down on an old wooden settle, carved all over like a bench on the Battery.
No light was to be seen, but, after a brief consultation, the party swung open the gate, entered, and having reached the house, one of the number gave a peculiar tapping at a window, followed by a low whistle or call, that was immediately answered by a corresponding sound from within, and this again by a counter signal, which was repeated like the faintly returning tone of an echo; and, after some delay, the door slowly opened, the voices of men and women, mingling in boisterous mirth, burst forth like the roar of a suddenly opened furnace, the party entered, and the door was closed again.
To my own credit I respectfully declined. As Sherry and I left the theatre in Mexico City one night, we met a blind beggar tapping his way home. Sherry stopped him. "Good evening," he said over the blind man's shoulder. "Good evening, senor," was the reply. "You are late." "Si, senor," and the blind man pushed a hand down in his coat pocket.
"Yes, you may try," he decided finally, extending the whip that he had been idly tapping against his legging. "But don't hit him, will you?" "Not I," grinned the freckle-faced boy, leading the pony further out into the street. "He doesn't need to be struck."
They went, tapping gently at every door all the way down the corridor, but received no response. "They're a heartless lot," Betty declared at the last door. "Not one of them in tears. It's not right, they're entirely too cheerful for so young a class." And she scowled wrathfully as an indication of her displeasure. "Never mind, Bet," Lois laughed, "maybe we'll have better luck with the Juniors."
"Please be seated," he said; "it is nothing no one is there." But the tapping was repeated, and with the same gentle, slow insistence as before. "Pardon me," I said, "it is late. May I call to-morrow?" He smiled a little mechanically, I thought. "It is very delicate of you," said he, "but quite needless. Really, this is the only room in the tower, and no one is there.
There is a loud tapping noise as we pass an old fir-tree, but no bird is to be seen, so we go round to the other side and trace the noise to a small hole near which a quantity of congealed turpentine shows that the bark has been pierced by a woodpecker and the sap is oozing out. I rap outside the hole and in a minute the grey head of a nuthatch appears.
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