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Updated: May 23, 2025
Well, he was right; he was most always right; he had an uncommon level head for a nigger. I read considerable to Jim about kings and dukes and earls and such, and how gaudy they dressed, and how much style they put on, and called each other your majesty, and your grace, and your lordship, and so on, 'stead of mister; and Jim's eyes bugged out, and he was interested.
In setting up the security system we checked all wiring, traced all phone lines, and in general made sure the place was not 'bugged, which is the term we use for wire taps, hidden microphones, and so on." Steve paused, and Rick thought his friend looked a little embarrassed.
Robert comes in from his lawyer session just before closin' time; rubbin' his hands sort of satisfied too. "Well," says I, jumpin' up from the swing-chair, "it was some jolt you slipped Aunty. I expect I can resign now?" "Oh, I trust not," says he. "The board indorsed your appointment an hour ago. Keep your desk, Torchy. It is to be yours from now on." "Wh-a-a-at?" says I, my eyes bugged.
Well, he was right; he was most always right; he had an uncommon level head for a nigger. I read considerable to Jim about kings and dukes and earls and such, and how gaudy they dressed, and how much style they put on, and called each other your majesty, and your grace, and your lordship, and so on, 'stead of mister; and Jim's eyes bugged out, and he was interested.
We're in the Great Sahara, as sure as guns!" He was so excited he couldn't hold still; but I wasn't. I says: "Well, then, where's the Great Sahara? In England or in Scotland?" "'Tain't in either; it's in Africa." Jim's eyes bugged out, and he begun to stare down with no end of interest, because that was where his originals come from; but I didn't more than half believe it.
After enough looks at himself in the dark water, and having knotted a clean, jaunty handkerchief at his throat, he returned with his slight limp to camp, where they were just sitting at breakfast to the rear of the cook-shelf of the wagon. "Bugged up to kill!" exclaimed one, perceiving Lin's careful dress. "He sure has not shaved again?" another inquired, with concern.
Suddenly the door burst open with a bang, and Heine Schultz filled the little office with the roar of a behemoth: "Oh, boy! Have you seen it? Just come in with the mail! Los Angeles papers! Here, read, man! And then get drunk! I'll help you!" Tweet snatched the paper from him, and his steel-blue eyes bugged at the glaring headlines: Gold! Gold! Gold! Death Valley Gives Up Another Secret.
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