"With all them millions inside and everybody asleep?" "That was so." "And I not there!" he groaned, and turned dismally once more to the hosing of his car. There was a sudden grinding of wheels upon gravel. The old cab had actually pulled up at Challenger's door. I saw the young occupant step out from it.

"She and Justin know they're beaten they're just trying to patch it up before it's too late I don't care I won't have her think she can get away with any such scheme !" And so muttering and scolding, Alix got back to her dog and her barnyard, and soothed herself with great hosing and cleaning of the duck-pond, and much skimming and tasting of Kow's preserves.

By and by we heard pumping, hosing, deck-washing, the paddling of bare feet to and fro, and all the familiar sounds of an early morning at sea. The ship, however, was motionless: we were lying stock-still. Doubtless everybody was wondering at this, as I was, when there came a crash, followed by a small avalanche of broken timber, while the ship quaked in her watery bed.

Still it was "some run," and the next day I spent a long time hosing off the thick clay which almost completely hid the good Susan from sight. One of the results of the closing of Boulogne harbour was that instead of the patients being evacuated straight to England we had to drive them into Boulogne, where they were entrained for Havre! A terrible journey, poor things.

At the left, a fountain-sprayer now whirled a mist of water over the trim grass, and far to the rear a man in rubber boots was hosing off a phaeton before a carriage house. On the back porch, an elderly cook was peeling potatoes and gently crooning some old ballad of Erin. It was a serene and reassuring scene.

"Here Playter," he ordered, "dig up some togs for a hosing, will you? And be sharp about it, there's a love." The girl obligingly dropped her boots, and turning out the contents of a cupboard, produced some faded blue bathing trunks. To us they seemed shamelessly inadequate, but Simon appeared satisfied.

"Poor old Hohenzollern has got it in the neck at last," said Machiavelli, who was hosing off the premises with vitriol in preparation for a new squad of shirtwaist-factory owners. Satan listened attentively. Indeed, it was true. The Hohenzollerns had been booted off the throne of Germany. "Well, that's tough," said Satan. "I never could see why they chivied those poor Hohenzollerns so.

He had told of plank beds, of food he could not eat, of the quelling of prison outbreaks by hosing the prisoners and then letting them lie in their wet clothes on cold floors.

They put on fresh tanks and got their instructions from Chief Sanders. "Longer decompression this time. Stick with me on the way up and move when I move. We don't want you to get the bends." The boys nodded their understanding, then took to the water. The frogmen below were still hosing sand.

"I don't know what's amiss with me," continued Austin, staggering to his feet. "I expect I came over queer when I was hosing her down. I seem to remember flopping over by the step. But I'll swear I never left those lubricator taps on." In a condensed narrative the astonished Austin was told what had happened to himself and the world.