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Updated: May 2, 2025
We got her done an hour ago, and pretty well back-fired. All we got to do now is to keep her from crossing anywheres; and if she does cross, to corral her before she can get away from us." "I wish we could have got here sooner!" cried Bob, disappointed that the little adventure seemed to be flattening out. "So?" commented Charley drily. "Well, there's plenty yet.
The automobiles snorted, tooted, back-fired, and passed away. Their clamour died in the distance, leaving the night a thing of peace and magic once more. The door of the castle closed with a bang. "I suppose I ought to be going in now," said Maud. "I suppose so. And I ought to be there, too, politely making my farewells.
"What the devil you laughing at?" barked out our skipper. George took his eyes off the galley-door, but his grin remained. Said George: "Cap'n, I see de flame. The galley stove just done bust!" The galley stove on our ship was an oil-burner. It had back-fired, and so the loud Woof!
A pistol cannot be fired in a quiet square like this without attracting general attention." "That is the extraordinary part of it," said Forbes, smiling grimly. "People heard the noise, of course, but came to the conclusion that a cylinder in the car had back-fired. That was the view taken by two policemen on duty within a few yards of the house.
"Be ready," Steve said. Rick checked himself once again to be sure all was in order. Weight belt, knife, compass, spear gun with safety cap on, mask fitting tightly, and the pack in place. He got ready to jump on Steve's command. The outboard slowed, raced, slowed, raced, back-fired, slowed. Steve's hand went over and trailed chemical in the water.
"Any time a cross-wind catches her." The engineer produced a match and stooped. This time she back-fired superbly, and Pyecroft went out over the right rear wheel in a column of rich yellow flame. "I've seen a mine explode at Bantry once prematoor," he volunteered. "That's all right," said Hinchcliffe, brushing down his singed beard with a singed forefinger.
I back-fired and saved the house and your wife from going up in smoke. But everything else went. Let that sink into your system, will you? And just see if you can draw a picture of what woulda happened if nobody had showed up if that fire had hit the coulee with nobody there but your wife.
As a result of the tense atmosphere which prevailed in the city, the nerves of the population were so on edge that when my car back-fired with a series of violent explosions, the loungers in front of a near-by café jumped as though a bomb had been thrown among them. The patron saint of Fiume is, appropriately enough, St. Vitus.
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