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Updated: May 24, 2025
"I'll be as careful as I can." Tom did not dive; the distance was too short. Instead, he let himself down into the water slowly. Then his head vanished beneath the surface of the water. "Whew! The nerve of that young fellow!", thought Conlon with shuddering admiration. "Ob co'se Massa Reade done got nerve," nodded the negro at the wheel. "Dat's one reason why, Misto Conlon, Massa Reade is boss."
"I see something that gleams," admitted Conlon. "Well, we'll have them up and aboard in a hurry. Then you'll see just what they are." "You're not going to try to raise the things with the boathook, are you?" queried the engine tender, a look of alarm in his eyes. "That might be risky," admitted Reade. "I'll go over the side after them and bring them up. "Don't, Mr.
We've sent a man off for him, and they're getting a party together to go out and fetch the sub-inspector and the old man in. She's offered to go too. It may save their lives, for, from what Conlon said, they're badly hurt, both of them." "Has the gold gone?" Wallace asked. "I reckon so, though there's no saying until we hear what has happened.
"Exactly," Reade nodded. "Lucky if we don't find the bombs with the keel of the boat," observed Conlon. Tom succeeded in rigging the light so that he could use it. By the time that the boat was around at the west side of the retaining wall Tom ordered the boat in close alongside.
"You had better bring them here; it's quieter and more roomy than any other place in the town," Wallace said to Brennan when they were alone. "If they can stand the journey," Brennan said under his breath. "I've told Conlon to ride back and let us know; I'll have to stay here." "Then I'll tell Harding." He reached the front door as Harding was returning, after having packed the things Mrs.
From Dugan's Danny turned back eastward. The April sun seemed to stir in him a vague feeling that he could not construe. He made a wrong diagnosis and decided that it was Katy Conlon. A block from her house on Avenue A he met her going to church. They pumped hands on the corner. "Gee! but you look dumpish and dressed up," said Katy. "What's wrong? Come away with me to church and be cheerful."
"Be careful, won't you, sir?" urged Conlon, in a somewhat awed voice. "Mr. Reade, we can't afford to lose you until this job is completed. Men with all the nerve you show are scarce in the world." "I know where there are forty thousand men with at least as much nerve, many of them having several times as much as I," laughed Tom. "Where on earth are they?" demanded the Irishman.
"Get up and take the wheel, Evarts," Tom. directed. "Get at work on your spark, Conlon, and I'll throw the drive-wheel over for you. Some of you men cast, off!" In a very short time the "Morton" was going "put-put-put" away from the dock. Tom, after seeing that everything was moving satisfactorily, turned around to look at the four men huddled astern. "Don't any of you go to sleep," he urged.
Reade queried, impatiently. "Oh, Evarts! Where are you, and what are you doing?" "Trying to get four men awake," bawled back the voice of the foreman, from the distance. "As soon as I get one man on his feet the other three have sunk back to sleep." "Wait until I get over there then!" called Tom, striding forward. "Come along, Conlon! Don't you lag on me." "There!
"What a strange person!" murmured Helen Cameron. "She is pretty," announced the assured Mercy Curtis, who always held her own opinion to be right on any subject. "One brunette never does like another," and she made a little face at Helen. "Listen!" commanded Jennie Stone. "What does she say?" The Indian girl spoke again, and this time they all heard her. "Is the white lady injured, Conlon?"
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