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Updated: May 14, 2025
In the evening Father took him to the hotel to introduce him to some friends. He said it would be an awful bore, but he will certainly make a good impression especially in his new tourist getup and leather breeches. Grandmama and Grandpapa sent love to all. I've never seen them. They have sent a lot of cakes and sweets and Oswald grumbled no end because he had to bring them.
After many tumbles four chubby youngsters mounted the burro; and the others, with loud acclaim, shouting, "Noddle, Noddle, getup! getup!" endeavored to make him go. But Noddle nodded and refused to awaken or budge. Then an ambitious urchin of six fastened his hands in the fur of the sheep and essayed to climb to his back. Willing hands assisted him. "Ride him, Billy, ride him.
Hare thought he saw something in the deep shade of a line of poplar-trees; he peered closer, and made out a motionless horse and rider, just a shade blacker than the deepest gloom. The next instant they vanished, and the rapid clatter of hoofs down the road told Hare his eyes had not deceived him. "Getup," growled Naab to his horses. "Jack, did you see that fellow?" "Yes. What was he doing there?"
Colored flame spurted from the muzzle. Rick laughed as he noticed another figure in front of the establishment. "Look! He's got a pup." Acting as a doorman was another figure, human size, clad in a similar getup. "What say we drop in?" Scotty suggested. "Sure," Rick replied, falling into the role of a science-fiction spaceman.
At length Hare, tired of looking upward at the creeping white wagons, closed his eyes. The wheels crunched on the stones; the horses heaved and labored; Naab's "Getup" was the only spoken sound; the sun beamed down warm, then hot; and the hours passed. Some unusual noise roused Hare out of his lethargy. The wagon was at a standstill. Naab stood on the seat with outstretched arm.
Whereupon he turned his back to the wind. The afternoon grew apace; the sun glistened on the white patches of Coconina Mountain; it set; and the wind died. "Five miles of red sand," said Naab. "Here's what kills the horses. Getup." There was no trail. All before was red sand, hollows, slopes, levels, dunes, in which the horses sank above their fetlocks.
At his regular hour, just before sunrise, Robinson awoke and peeped from below the blanket. He shook George. "Getup directly, George. We are wasting time when time is gold." "What is it?" "'What is it? There is a pilot in the sky that will take us out of this cursed trap, if the day does not come and spoil all."
"But we haven't got time," Bud protested. "Our own sub's waiting right offshore and we want to tail the sub that brought those guys here! We're from the Swift rocket base." "Any identification?" the sergeant asked. "How could we have in this getup?" Mel retorted. "That's what I thought. So get moving," the sergeant barked.
"Now, Jack, I'm off. Good-bye and good luck. Mescal, look out for him.... So-ho! Noddle! Getup! Biscuit!" And with many a cheery word and slap he urged the burros into the forest, where they and his tall form soon disappeared among the trees. Piute came stooping toward camp so burdened with coyotes that he could scarcely be seen under the gray pile.
What age is he? queried one hearer who, by the way, seen from the side, bore a distant resemblance to Henry Campbell, the townclerk, away from the carking cares of office, unwashed of course and in a seedy getup and a strong suspicion of nosepaint about the nasal appendage. Why, the sailor answered with a slow puzzled utterance, my son, Danny? He'd be about eighteen now, way I figure it.
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