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Updated: June 25, 2025
"I mean," said the earnest lad, "that I know a car that was out this afternoon without chains, and it was a seven-seater Perriton car just as this one that knocked down Chet's friend was." "It was a Perriton, I believe," murmured Lance. But Chetwood Belding said: "I don't know whether that poor fellow is a friend of mine or not. If I have to give Pa fifty dollars Whew!"
"Have you got a warrant for Chet's arrest?" "Only old Tried and True here." Dave patted the barrel of his weapon. "You're not a deputy sheriff?" "No-o. Not officially." "What has Chet done?" Dingwell regarded the other man humorously. "What have you done, Chet? You must 'a' broke some ordinance in that long career of disrespectability of yours.
Down from above, a black shadow came silently crashing; a blaze of light terrific in its brilliance brought an exclamation to Chet's lips and hope to his heart. "Spud! You old fool, you're coming to get us!" But the words ended with an avalanche of bodies that threw themselves down the black slope. There were others coming from below, leaping from the stones. The ledge was filled with them.
By a tragedy familiar to the world of art, the April enthusiasm of Chet Laylock served only to stimulate the talent of the older craftsman, George F. Babbitt. He grumbled to Stanley Graff, "That tan-colored voice of Chet's gets on my nerves," yet he was aroused and in one swoop he wrote: DO YOU RESPECT YOUR LOVED ONES?
Its grotesque horror struck through to the deeper levels of Chet's mind with a feeling he could not have depicted in words. From the higher elevation where their ship lay he could look out and across this welter of storm-lashed rock to see it level off, then vanish where another crater mouth yawned black. Here was the inner crater!
It's you who will be out of the Service then, laughed out!" The Commander smiled, too; smiled coldly, complacently, while his head shook. "Again you are mistaken," he told Chet; "never again will you fly as much as one foot above Earth." And still Chet's grin persisted. "Commander," he said, "a man in your position should not make so many mistakes.
She would groan and squeal, Chet knew, when the fans lifted her from the hold-down clutch; and she couldn't fly at over twenty thousand without leaking her internal pressure through a thousand cracks that made her porous as an old balloon but to Chet's eyes the old relic of the years was a thing of sheer beauty and grace.
The news Chet had divulged was so exciting that the girls quite forgot for the time being the wreck that Hester Grimes seemed to have made of the forthcoming performance of "The Rose Garden." Their chattering tongues mentioned Hester more than once, however, as they discussed Chet's news. Whether Purt Sweet's car had run down the man from Alaska or not, what did Hester know about it?
The eyes of Spud O'Malley followed Chet's, and his imaginative faculties must have been stimulated by Chet's words, for he gazed open-mouthed, as if for the first time he visioned that golden scimitar as something more substantial than a high-hung light. He drew one long incredulous breath before he answered. "What position, sir?
"I came up yesterday," admitted John. "My name's Timson," said Chet. "Happy to meet you," said John, rising and putting out his hand. "My name is Lenox," and they shook hands that is, John grasped the ends of four limp fingers. After they had subsided into their seats, Chet's opaquely bluish eyes made another tour of inspection, in curiosity and wonder.
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