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Updated: May 29, 2025
"And he has not come down the lake?" "I guess not," the logger said. "Oh, I guess it's all right. Jack's pretty skookum in the woods. Only Lefty got uneasy. It's desperate hot and smoky up there." "How did you come down? Are you going back soon?" she asked abruptly. "I got the Waterbug," Barlow told her. "I'm goin' right straight back."
He caught the face of the other with a rapid side glance, but Lefty Joe was sufficiently concealed by the dark. "Heard you were the main guy with a whole crowd behind you," went on the brakie. "Yeh?" "Sure. Heard you was riding the cushions, and all that." "Yeh?" "But I guess it was all bunk; here you are back again, anyway." "Yep," agreed Lefty.
"Stop growling and haul us back again!" cried the Poker. The Bellows began to haul in his breath rapidly, and by a process of suction soon had the four parts of the burst cloud back together once more. "By jingo!" panted Lefty. "That was a narrow escape. Two seconds more and this party would have been a goner.
"With the FBI. They put agents on the case and found out Lefty had been in touch with the Soviet Embassy in Washington, through a third secretary whose function it is to gather various kinds of scientific intelligence. We're not absolutely certain, but it looks very much as though Lefty plans to sell his data tapes to the Soviets." "So that's why JANIG has moved into the case," Scotty concluded.
I've heard lots of poetry in my life, but it goes in one ear and out of the other." "You must have a queer head," said the Poker, peering into Tom's ear. "How a poem poured into one ear can go out of the other I can't understand. There doesn't seem to be any opening there." "His head isn't solid like ours," said Lefty. "It's too bad to be afflicted the way he is.
Even while her being answered eagerly to the physical charm of him, she had fought against admitting to herself what desperate intent might have lain back of the killing of Billy Dale, a shot that Lefty Howe declared was meant for Fyfe.
But, as I was telling you, Ebenezer was bound to be a boy, and no amount of talk on our part could convince him that he was a Weasel. Well, Lefty and I were very young then, and up to the time of which I am speaking we had always made our little trips in the Fairy Country or in Giantland all by ourselves, and we had lots of fun together I can warrant.
Half a mile beyond that, beside the first donkey shuddering on its anchored skids as it tore an eighteen-inch cedar out by the roots, they came on Lefty Howe. He shook his head when Stella asked for Fyfe. "He took twenty men around to the main camp day before yesterday," said Lefty. "There was a piece uh timber beyond that he thought he could save.
"Hullo!" cried the Righthandiron. "Halloa!" called the Lefthandiron. "That's not my name," came the voice of the Poker from behind a cloud just above Tom's head. "But I know who you mean, so I answer Halloa yourself." "Where are you?" cried Lefty. "Here," called the Poker. "No, you're not," called Righty. "You're there. We are here."
This freight-car talk is pitched just above the ordinary tone it is an overtone of conversation, one might say and it is distinctly nasal. The brakie could talk above the racket, and so, of course, could Lefty Joe. They sat about in the center of the train, on the forward end of one of the cars.
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