Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 4, 2025
You, there, Shorty Kilrain, I've waited on you with my own hands. You've played the man with me. Are you goin' to play the dog now? Jansen, you was tellin' me about a blue-eyed girl in Sweden; have you forgot about her now? And Calamity Ben! My God, ain't there a man among you to step over here and join the two of us?" They were shaken, but the memory of Drew quelled them.
At length Slogger Atkins disposed of Young Kilrain with a well-directed punch in the solar plexus, and Walsh and his companion rose to go. "What become of yer friend?" the big man asked. "He had to go out, Jim," Frank replied. "He couldn't stand the sight of the blood." "Is that so?" the big man commented. "It beats all, the queer ideas some people has."
The voice from the kitchen rolled out louder: "Hey! Shorty Kilrain!" bellowed the aggravated host. He turned to Bard. "What'd you do with a bum like that for a cook?" "Pay him wages and keep him around to sing songs. I like this one. Listen!" "Kilrain, come here and make it fast or I'll damn your eyes!" He explained to Bard: "Got to be hard with these fellers or you never get nowhere with 'em."
But Miss Kilrain showed a proper spirit, and proceeded to form her intimacies elsewhere; Miss Kilrain grew quite intimate and friendly with certain of the girls. And now her name had come up for honorary membership in the Platonian Society. "We've always extended it to The Faculty," a member reminded them. "Besides, she won't bother us," remarked another. "They never come."
Shorty Kilrain, like a boy caught playing truant, edged little by little back against the rock; Butch Conklin, his eyes staring, had grown waxy pale; Steve Nash himself was sullen and gloomy rather than defiant. And all this because of a grey man far past the prime of life who ran stumbling, panting, toward them. At his nearer approach a flash of understanding touched Ufert.
As he sat in Harrah's outer office on a high-backed settee of teak-wood ornate with dragons and Chinese devils, with his feet on a rug which would have gone a long way toward installing a power-plant, looking at pictures of Jake Kilrain in pugilistic garb and pose, the racing yacht Shamrock under full sail, and Heatherbloom taking a record smashing jump, the spider-legged office boy came from inside endeavoring to hide some pleasurable excitement under a semblance of dignity and office reticence.
For a step had creaked on the floor, and she looked up to find Steve Nash standing in the centre of the room with the firelight gloomily about him; behind, blocking the door with his squat figure, stood Shorty Kilrain. "Where's your side-kicker?" asked Nash. "Where's Bard?" And looking across the room, she saw that the other bunk was empty.
The spirit of this school had been Earnestness, and this spirit had found voice in a school paper. As a worthier field for the talent she recognised in the Platonian Society, Miss Kilrain now proposed this society start a paper, which should be the organ for the School.
"Wherever he's gone on the range he's raised hell. He's cut out for a killer, and Glendin in Eldara knows it." "I'll talk to Glendin. In the meantime you fellows keep your hands off Bard. In the first place because if you take the law into your own hands you'll have me against you understand?" Kilrain and Nash glowered at him a moment, and then backed through the door.
McNamara sat propped against a rock, a clumsy, dirty bandage around his thigh; Isaacs lay prone, a stained rag twisted tightly around his shoulder; Lovel sat with his legs crossed, staring stupidly down to the steady drip of blood from his left forearm. But Ufert, Kilrain, Conklin, and Nash maintained the fight; and Drew wondered what casualties lay on the other side.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking