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Updated: June 20, 2025
Here, boy, what's your name?" He pounced upon Jeems. "Can you get that book here this afternoon?" Jeems drew back. "Ah ain't gonna bring no book heah. That's mine an' you ain't gonna set eye on it!" With that parting shot he was gone. "But but " protested the other, "I've got to see it. Why, such a find might be priceless." Mr. Holmes laughed. "Curb your hunting instincts for once, Creighton.
Joe said dubiously: "I think I see...." "Mike and his gang of little guys are bein' saps on purpose. If anybody's goin' to pull some fast stuff, next shift change that's the time everybody's got to! Last chance! Mike and his gang don't know what's gonna happen, but they sure know when! They're invitin' the real saboteurs to make fools of 'em. And what'll happen?"
There had been no destruction, but the town was dead. Its lights shone on streets so empty that it would have seemed better to leave them to the kindly dark. Jill exclaimed, "Look! That window!" And ahead, in the dead and lifeless town, a single window glowed from electric light inside it, and it looked lonelier than anything else in the world. "I'm gonna look into that!" said the driver.
"At least we know where he is and what he's doin'." Kirby propped his chin on his forearm. "Jus' 'bout now he's sittin' down at the table back theah in Meridian with a sight of fancy grub lookin' back at him. How long you think he's gonna take to bein' corraled that way?" "General Buford gave him strict orders personally " "Nice to have a general take an interest in you," Kirby commented.
Racey Dawson nodded his head as one does when a subject is closed, hitched up his chaps, and started blithely round the hotel. Swing Tunstall followed in haste, caught up with his friend and fell into step at his side. "This ain't any of yore muss, Swing," Racey said, mildly. "It's gonna be," was the determined reply. "You shut up." Racey grinned at nothing and stuck his tongue in his cheek.
Best damned pop-corn you ever saw, kind they raise not fifty miles from where I was born. You know, I didn't useta like you guys. But now I love everybody. When we get to Saturn, I'm gonna make up for all the times I didn't give you pop-corn. We'll pop and we'll pop. And beans, too. I useta hate beans. Always beans on a ship. But now we're saved, and I love beans!"
I wandered about with my lunch in my hand, to see what I could see. Up amid the belts and power machines sat one of the girls who began that morning—not the cold, hatless one. “You gonna stick it out?” she asked me. “Sure. I guess it's all right.” “Oh gee! Ain't like no place I ever worked yet. Don't catch me standin' this long.” She did stand it four days.
"Forget it," shot back the other. "He won't break his spaceman's oath. Not Shinny." He got up. "Come on, Mason. We haven't got much time before the Annie Jones blasts off." "What are we gonna do?" the shorter man wanted to know. "Stow away on the cargo deck. Then, when we get out into space, we dump the pilots and head for Tara, for our first load of copper." "But a job like this'll take money!"
"I heard you talking Indian," said Joe. "You're gonna hear some more," said the Chief. "We're the first war party of my tribe in longer'n my grandpa woulda thought respectable!" Joe found it difficult to restrain a smile. The Chief took him off to one side. "Fella," he said kindly, "it bothers you, this business, because it ain't organized. That's what this world needs, Joe.
There was a soft echo from somewhere "...played Hell in Tennessee-ee-ee." "Sure did," Webb commented. "But this country comin' up now ain't gonna favor the blue bellies none." He was right.
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