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"I'm sorry, sir; but I thought I should report it. It was a man who came to see her this afternoon. You was out for your walk, and Flynn had taken the ladies for a drive, so Elsie was alone at the garage. This person rode in on the grocer's truck from the village, which is how he got by the gate.
He was relieved to find the place utterly bare except for a sort of car or truck which ran around the room on a track beneath a row of square doors. These doors evidently opened into the compartments alluded to by the keeper. Which compartment had the fellow said? Paul abruptly discovered that he was rattled, terribly rattled, and he turned back out of the place.
"What do you mean?" said McNamara, while the Judge murmured indignantly. "Just what I say. However, that ain't what I want to talk about. I don't take no stock in such truck as judges an' lawyers an' orders of court. They ain't intended to be took serious.
I'm sorry, mister but if you don't mind what's your name and address?" Earle had turned, and was looking at the dog under the truck. Then without a word he gave his name. The baggageman wrote it hastily in a notebook. The bell began to ring. The baggageman started away running. "That's what I call white, Mr.
Now den, le's des call 'im Mr. Man en let 'im go at dat." The silence of the little boy gave consent. "One time," said Uncle Remus, carefully taking up the thread of the story where it had been dropped, "hit turn out dat Brer Rabbit bin makin' so free wid Mr. Man's greens en truck dat Mr.
They knew that the "very top" of the mainmast was called the main truck; and that the look-outs were not generally stationed so high up in the world. "We can talk as we ride along," said Johnny. "We have ten miles to go, and we ought to reach the captain's by twelve o'clock. The old fellow tells a capital story over his after-dinner pipe."
"Reckon I've landed on both feet," he observed, a confident, satisfied drawl in his voice. "What do you mean by that?" inquired Dave. "Why, I've been looking out for an airship said to be cruising around this neighborhood. Truck farmer said he saw one early this morning. Then I noticed you in town.
Roused by the merry crackle of occasional china, the house party was bestirring itself to investigate. Voices sounded, muffled and inquiring. Meantime Baxter crawled steadily on his hands and knees toward the light switch. He was in much the same condition as one White Hope of the ring is after he has put his chin in the way of the fist of a rival member of the Truck Drivers' Union.
"Mars Tom, I b'lieve it uz jes like when you's buildin' a house; dey's allays a lot o' truck en rubbish lef' over. What does you do wid it? Doan' you take en k'yart it off en dump it into a ole vacant back lot? 'Course. Now, den, it's my opinion hit was jes like dat dat de Great Sahara warn't made at all, she jes HAPPEN'."
He had no whip nor would one have helped matters, perhaps, at this juncture. The rear wheels went over the edge of the dock. The lake was high, being swelled by the Spring floods. "Plump!" the back of the wagon plunged into the water, and, the bulk of the load being over the rear axle, the forward end shot up off the front truck. Wagon body and freight sunk into the lake.
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