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Updated: May 21, 2025
I went to my cabin and slept for a few hours. I was awakened by a call from Clay telling me that the alien had released his cargo for us. Mannion's crew was out making the pick-up. Before they had maneuvered the bulky cylinder to the cargo hatch, the alien released our power lead. I called Kramer and told him to meet the incoming crew and open and inspect the cargo.
We're living high for a while, anyhow. Of course we don't want to use up too much of the fancy stuff. Tell Otto Kramer about us..." Frank Nelsen and Gimp Hines, who were riding the rigging of their respective bubbs, which were also hauling big bales of supplies, were part of the trans-spatial conversation, too.
Joe Kramer arriving in Paris at midnight on a punctured tire, and cursing the cobblestone pavements over which he had hunted us out. A hot supper, a bottle of wine, a genial beam on all three of us, and Joe told his story. After leaving college, from New York he had gone to Kansas City, and by the "livest paper" there he had been sent abroad with a bike to do a series of "Sunday specials."
I didn't stop to think about it; I started trying to get up. If I'd thought I would have known that at the first move from me all seven of them would land on me at once. I concentrated on getting my hands under me, to push up. I heard a shout, and turning my head, saw Kramer swinging at someone. I went on with my project. Hands under my chest, I raised myself a little, and got a knee up.
Just as he had finished making it and had pushed one end of the wire through, the telephone bell rang, and Jane in dismay sprang to answer it. "Disguise your voice," warned Dean. "If it is a caller say there is no one home." "It was Lieutenant Kramer calling," said Jane as she returned. "Did he recognize your voice?" "I don't think so." "What did he say?"
"Come in," called Dick, but the door opened just as he was calling. Mr. Kramer, of the yearling class, stepped inside. "Mr. Spurlock requests me to inform Mr. Prescott that he demands a fight, at as early a moment as possible." "My compliments to Mr. Spurlock, and I will meet him here in barracks, to-night, I hope. Mr. Holmes has consented to act as one of my seconds."
He thought about how terribly vulnerable to attack Pallastown seemed, even with its encirclement of outriding guard stations. He thought of Paul Hendricks, Two-and-Two Baines, Charlie Reynolds, Otto Kramer, Mitch Storey, and Miss Rosalie Parks who was his old Latin teacher. He thought of trying to beam some of them. But hell, they all seemed so long-lost, and he wasn't in the mood, now.
There was a crash as the dazed man went to the floor. Instantly Mr. Jennison's voice rose, counting: "One, two, three, four " "Take the full count, Spurdy," advised Kramer, bending forward over his principal. " eight, nine, ten!" gasped out the timekeeper. Mr. Spurlock had shown no sign of rising. In fact, he was still unconscious. "I award the fight to Mr.
Kramer started in at a lively gait, trying to bear the plebe down with swift, overpowering rushes and showers of blows. Some of these landed on the plebe's sturdy body, the whacks resounding. But the blows merely stirred Prescott's fighting blood within him.
"He is still here, then?" questioned the shopkeeper with a sigh that might have indicated either relief or resignation. "Why, certainly. You did not expect that he had entirely recovered overnight, did you?" "No," replied Herr Kramer, "not exactly. In fact, I did not know what I should expect."
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