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"Landover tried to borrow my lead pencil yesterday," remarked Flattner. "Finally offered to put up his letter of credit as security. I gave him the laugh. That lead pencil is worth more than all the letters of credit lumped together. He wanted to write a note. So I agreed to let him use it if he wouldn't take it out of my sight and on condition that he didn't write more than five or six line's.
"If it ever really existed outside of the fairy tales, it is now extinct. The nearest thing to it in size is the condor, I suppose." "I've seen some whopping big condors up in the Andes," said Percival, "but twelve feet from tip to tip was what the natives called a full-grown specimen. What do you make of these birds, Flattner?"
That's what I've always advocated as the proper way to treat anarchists. Stick 'em away on an island completely surrounded by sharks and let 'em run it to suit themselves." "But there are no sharks in these waters," said Flattner. "They'd swim over here some night and slit all our throats." "Not a chance. They hate water too much to have ever learned how to swim. Now, here's the scheme.
Just as soon as we can get the ship's printing press and dining-room type ashore, I'll be ready to issue The Trigger Island Transcript, w.t.f. if you know what that means. I see you don't. Weekly till forbidden." "I've always wondered what those confounded letters meant down in the corner of the half-inch advertisements," said Flattner.
The same could be said of Madame Careni-Amori, who conducted a school of music, and the great Joseppi who graciously, even gladly, went into the tailoring business. Andrew Mott, one time First Officer on the Doraine, opened a "smoke" store and dispensed cured weed that Flattner authorized him to call "tobacco." The austere Mrs. Spofford decided to open a dress-making shop!
"He's got a lot to do with it, you blithering boob." "Besides," drawled Peter Snipe, the novelist, picking doggedly at the calloused ridges on one of his palms, "some of the women object to moving in the dark of the moon. They say it's sure to bring bad luck." "There's quite a mixup about it," observed Flattner. "Part of 'em claim it's good luck.
There were present, besides Percival, State Treasurer Landover, Chief Justice Malone, Minister of War Platt, Minister of Marine Mott, Minister of Agriculture Pedro Drom, State Clerk Flattner, Surgeon General Cullen, Lord High Sheriff Shay, and the following members of the Executive Council: Snipe, Block, Jones, Fitts, Knapendyke, Calkins, Ruiz' and Alvara.
I saw you carrying a bucket of water for her yesterday." "Her name isn't Lake," said Malone. "It's Hardwickley. And if you had your eyes open, you'd have seen me carrying one for her every day, so you would, my lad." "The damned villain!" exploded Flattner. "He told me her name was Lake, word with only four letters, and she turns out to have let's see, eleven! I call that pretty shifty work, I do.
The groups were made up of men familiar with nature in the rough. Lieutenant Platt headed one group, Professor Flattner another, a Bolivian ranchman and an English horse buyer the remaining two. Abel Landover was to have gone out with the first day's shift to work on the road through the wood. He refused point-blank to leave the ship.
The gaze of all was centred upon two persons who walked rapidly in the direction taken by Fitts and his party. No one spoke for a few seconds. Flattner, after a quick look at Percival's set, scowling face, was the first to speak. To a certain degree, he understood the situation. It was out of pure consideration for his friend's feelings that he said: "I'll go and head 'em off, A. A."
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