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Updated: May 21, 2025
He drove home its loosened nails with two sharp taps from a monkey-wrench, glanced inside to make certain the dog had not gotten out, and presently hoisted the crate aboard the express-car. Two hours later the crate was unloaded at a waystation.
Wishing to keep as close to the truth as possible, I must confess that apparently I was so deeply engaged in digging under the crate that I completely forgot about everything else except this one thing: What could be inside that crate? The evening drew on. The grey, mouldy, cold fog grew thicker and thicker around us.
Her eyes were fixed on those sunlit straw fields, so soon to be her battleground. He liked her silence. From the beginning she had played the game had asked no odds because she was a woman. He thought of his own youngest daughter. Suppose she were standing there, as that girl stood! When the three judges rode up, she herself lifted the big pointer out of the crate.
"Besides who put the body into the crate? What kind of a woman would it be who could do a deed like that?" "In other words," said I, "you are still without a ghost of a clew to the identity of the person who committed the murder, and to the means employed?"
Wilford ran toward it. Patsey held the knife. The butcher stopped and let Wilford mount. It was all one to the butcher. He knew he usually got a boy at this corner. Patsey ran after the butcher cart. He had caught sight of someone whom Wilford had not yet noticed. It was Mrs. Ducker. Mrs. Ducker had been down the street ordering a crate of pears. Mrs.
"But what in blazes are we going to do with him?" broke in the Master, worriedly. "We can't take him all the way home. And I won't trust to sending him by express. He might get backed onto a siding and be kept there for days, without food or water. Besides, they won't let a dog go by express unless he's in a crate. What are we to do?"
As the visitor was shown to the elevator, the clerk turned to his assistant with a nudge. "There's the easiest spender of the Lobster Club. That means good trade here, with this new peach in the crate. These old ginks are hard as Bessemer armor-plate in business, but oh, how soft the tumble for a new shade of peroxide." "Mr.
I applied to an agency for a detective, and they sent me a stupid boy, with nothing to recommend him except his belief in himself. He said that Captain Gunner had died by accident, killed by a snake which had come out of a crate of bananas. I knew better. I knew that Captain Gunner had been murdered. Are you listening, Captain Muller? This will interest you, as you were such a friend of his."
The second load consisted of a dismantled drill, a crate of long-handled shovels, and more barbed wire; the third held a rake and a mowing machine, more wire, kegs of fence staples and a dozen forks. "The Three Bar will be the middle point of a cyclone," Moore prophesied as he viewed the implements. "Just as soon as this leaks out." "We fetched our cyclone openers with us," Russ assured him.
"There's American writin' on 'em, too," Jim East hastened to explain, "'cause otherwise how'd I know who it was for, hey?" Abbie carried the labels into the parlor and looked for a safe place for them. She saw the picture-album and put them in it. Then she hurried back to the porch. Old Chris opened one end of the crate. "It's a plant," Jim East whispered; "a Chinee plant."
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