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Updated: June 9, 2025
"Probably glad to be behind our machine guns instead of in front of them," conjectured Tom. "Hello, Heinie!" said Frank good-naturedly. "Hello yourself," came the answer. "Do you speak English?" asked Frank in surprise. "A little," replied the German, and proceeded to prove it by answering, although in rather a halting manner, the questions they put to him.
When they arrived in front of the Cooks' they darted across the street and hurried along the driveway until they came to the garage. The door was shut and locked. Bob knocked loudly. There was no reply. Bob looked at his watch under the light of a match which Hugh struck. It was twenty minutes of eleven. "That's queer," he muttered. "Heinie is usually in bed long before this."
Everybody called them Heinie and Fritz and I seen one of them giveing me a look like he was wondring if all the U. S. soldiers was big stroppers like I but I stuck out my tongue at him and said "What do you think you are looking at you big pretzel" and he didn't dast say nothing back. Well they was a fine looking gang and they's been a lot of storys going the rounds about no soap in Germany.
Or they may try to take the Channel Ports, where they'd be in good position to take a hack at England. The only thing that's certain is that the drive is coming and when it does come it's going to be the biggest fight in the history of the world." "Let Heinie do his worst," said Bart. "Yes," agreed Frank. "And no matter what he does, he'll have to reckon with Uncle Sam."
Two more ships at sea and three dragons will do the job, Heinie. And then, h'm, you will get a job any day in any side show, I can guarantee you that." Heinie grins hopefully. It has the usual Huron street ending. Emergency case. Psychopathic hospital. Dunning. But the landlady talked to the police sergeant. The landlady was curious. She wanted the police sergeant to tell her something.
What next? Here he says I wouldn't dream what a big outfit this here U.S. outfit is; he says it's the biggest outfit he ever worked for not even excepting Miller & Lux. What next? Oh, yes; here he tells about getting one. "'Last night I captured a big fat enemy; you know a Heinie. It was as dark as a cave, but I heard one snooping close.
Suddenly his face became very red and he spoke angrily in German. "Thanks, buddy," Stan said. "I'm glad you speak American." The German shrugged his shoulders and went on working. Swen looked at Stan and said: "I am your helper. I could have handed you that wrench." "I just wanted to be sure Heinie, here, could understand everything we say. I noticed that he was just playing with that oil gauge.
He called it "a dress-suit," and before the complications of that exotic garb, he was flabby with anxiety. To Milt and to Schoenstrom to Bill McGolwey, even to Prof Jones and the greasily prosperous Heinie Rauskukle the dress-suit was the symbol and proof, the indication and manner, of sophisticated wealth. In Schoenstrom even waiters do not wear dress-suits.
Cy was to be heard publishing it abroad that if he couldn't get the Widow Bogart's permission to enlist, he'd run away and enlist without it. He shouted that he "hated every dirty Hun; by gosh, if he could just poke a bayonet into one big fat Heinie and learn him some decency and democracy, he'd die happy."
It listens like it, too, only this here show is all fi-nally, with Bingle’s Band playin’ circus tunes an’ the supes hollerin’ like they seen real money." He was a merry ruffian, and he controlled the "coke" graft in the 50th while Heinie was perpetual bondsman for local Magdalenes. "Well, ain’t we in Dutch us three guys!" he remarked with forced carelessness. "We sure done it that time."
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