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"W-w-what for?" demanded Toby, appalled at the thought of any one venturing out on that swirling river in a puny powerboat. "I'd take chances, and run down below to see if I could be of any help to the folks there," Steve went on to say, gloomily; "but I don't know anybody that I might borrow even a skiff from."
The problem was solved. Rummaging hastily, he found his flashlight. "Frank!" he called in a low whisper. "W-w-what?" quavered from the dark. Following the direction of the low sound, Bill crossed the room until his outstretched hand collided with Frank's eye. This mostly happens, you know. Frank stifled a howl as Bill hissed, "Listen! We have him now! He's asleep snoring.
Now if the merchant does not file his schedule, and if no creditor appears before the courts to obtain a decree of insolvency against the merchant, what happens?" "W-w-what h-h-happens?" "Why, the family of the deceased, his representatives, his heirs, or the merchant himself, if he is not dead, or his friends if he is only hiding, liquidate his business.
"W-w-what is it?" stammered Pepper, all excitement. "It l-looks like an old-fashioned cent." "You have got me," replied Donald. "I never saw any money like that." "Let's have a close look at it," put in Pepper. The boys studied over the coin, which was of the size of the early copper cent, for some time without being much the wiser.
The six-gun of the miner had been pressed hard against his fat paunch. Under curt orders he moved down the steps and out of the yard to the tree. At sight of Gordon the eyes of Wally stood out in amazement. Little sweat beads burst out on his forehead, for he remembered how busy he had been collecting evidence against this man. "W-w-what do you want?" he asked. "Got your keys with you?" "Y-yes."
"Yes, sir, you betch yur life that's jes' the way w-w-what I mean to say." State's Attorney. "Now, Mr. Clark, I'll ask you if you did not tell me and many other citizens of this community that the defendant, Dic Bright, fired the shot?" "I object," cried Mr. Switzer. "The gentleman cannot impeach his own witness." "You are right, Mr.
"Yes, I saw a number of big trees that must have been felled with the ax years ago," Max remarked at this point; "and I was wondering about it." "W-w-what happened to W-w-wesley C-c-combs?" asked Toby.
Bud helped him to rise, but after one effort Jeff sank back, groaning. "It's my boot," he explained. "See I'm wearing a number eight on a number fifteen hoof. W-w-what? Pull it off? Not for ten thousand dollars. We'll cut it off." Jeff produced a knife and felt its edge. "It's sharp," he said, "sharp as you, Bud; but-doggone it! I can't use it."
The whisper, if it was meant for a whisper was more than sufficiently audible to catch his daughter's ears. She started raised her head sprang to her feet turned and saw her father. 'Papa! Immediately her sire was seized with an access of stuttering. 'W-w-what the d-devil's the the m-m-meaning of this? Her utterance was clear enough, I fancy her parent found it almost painfully clear.
Then her lip trembled, and to the older sister's consternation she began to cry, with her shining head laid on her arms. "I don't know w-w-what to do, Sally!" she sobbed. "I don't know what is right! I know I'm desperately tired of worrying and fretting and being criticised!
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