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Updated: June 5, 2025
Nevertheless, he did not seem in the least downhearted, but apparently had some difficulty in restraining his broad grin. The voice of the grim cook returned: "I ask you," cried Lawlor, with freshly risen wrath, "is that any way to go around talkin' about women?" "Not talking. He's singing," answered Bard. "Let him alone." The thunder of their burly Ganymede's singing rose and echoed about them.
"There are certain things about me you will have to know." And he explained carefully the story which Nash had told to Bard. "This Bard," asked the cautious Lawlor, "is he any relation of old John Bard?" "Even if he were, it wouldn't make your position dangerous. The man he wants is I. He knows my face not my name. Until he sees me he'll be perfectly reasonable, unless he's crossed.
But remember if one of you grins when Lawlor gives an order I'm done with that man that's all." They filed out of the room, looking serious, and Drew concentrated on Lawlor. "This sounds like a joke," he began, "but there's something serious about it. If you carry it through safely, there's a hundred in it for you. If you fall down, why, you fall out of an easy place on this ranch."
Gilder did not look up from the heap of papers, but answered rather harshly, while once again his expression grew forbidding. "I don't know I couldn't wait," he said. He made a petulant gesture as he went on: "I don't see why Judge Lawlor bothered me about the matter. He is the one to impose sentence, not I. I am hours behind with my work now."
"Shall I pass on the cigars?" suggested Bard. "These smokes?" breathed Lawlor. "Waste 'em on common hands? Partner, you ain't serious, are you?" A breath like the faint sighing of wind reached them; the cowpunchers were resigned, and started now to roll their Durham.
In a dish of even more amazing proportions was a vast heap of potatoes boiled with their jackets on. Lawlor commenced loading the stack of plates before him, each with a slab and a potato or two. Meantime from a umber of big coffee pots a stream of a liquid, bitter as lye and black as night, was poured into the tin cups.
My ribs?" exclaimed Lawlor, nevertheless stirring somewhat uneasily in his chair. "Nope, they know that I'm William Drew. They may be hard, but they know I'm harder." "Oh," drawled the other, and his eyes held with uncomfortable steadiness on the rosy face of Lawlor. "I understand." To cover his confusion Lawlor seized his glass. "Here's to you drinkin' deep." And he tossed off the mighty potion.
He set to work on a new electronic setup which would make still another modification of the Lawlor space-drive possible. In the others, groups of electronic components were cut out and others substituted in rather tricky fashion from the control board. This was trickiest of all. It required the home-made vacuum tube to burn steadily when in use. But it was a very simple idea.
Lawlor, struggling still to re-establish himself in the eyes of Bard as the real William Drew, seized the opportunity to exert a show of authority. He smashed his big fist on the table. "Jansen!" he roared. "Eh?" grunted the Swede. "Where was you raised?" "Me?" "You, square-head." "Elvaruheimarstadhaven." "Are you sneezin' or talkin' English?" Jansen, irritated, bellowed: "Elvaruheimarstadhaven!
"Well, Demarest?" he inquired, as the dapper attorney advanced into the room at a rapid pace, and came to a halt facing the desk, after a lively nod in the direction of the secretary. The lawyer's face sobered, and his tone as he answered was tinged with constraint. "Judge Lawlor gave her three years," he replied, gravely. It was plain from his manner that he did not altogether approve.
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