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Updated: May 1, 2025
"On behalf of the Soviet of the Workers, "Chief Commissionary." At the finish of his reading Bat had looked up into the dark face of Pete Loale who was standing by. "Leo Murko?" he said, in an ominously restrained tone. "Ther' ain't no guy o' that name on our pay-roll. Guess he'll be that feller Bull dropped out into the snow."
And through the open doorway the harsh voice of Loale pursued the intruder in sharp protest. "Say, do you think you're stowing cargo in your darn, crazy old barge?" he cried. "If you fancy throwing things around you best get out an' do it. Guess you ain't used to a gent's office, you darn sailorman " But the door was closed with a slam and the rest of the protest was cut off.
When he comes you've got to send him right into my room with the mail-bag. I want him to take it in himself. You get that?" The half-breed's eyes blinked. It was rather the curious attitude of an attentive dog. But that was always his way when the master of the Sachigo Mill spoke to him. Pete Loale was quite an unusual creature.
And as he did so a sound reached him from the outer office, which had long since been closed for the night by the half-breed, Loale. He leapt to his feet. Without a second thought he moved over to the door and flung it wide. "What the ?" He broke off. "Good God!" he cried. "You, Father?" He laughed. "Why I thought it was some of the Bolshies from down at the mill."
The quick, black eyes were questioning. He was perhaps startled at the swift return of the man whom he regarded above all others. Standing spoke coldly, emphatically. "There's a man coming along up. He's a sailorman, and he's dressed in dirty dungaree, and he's carrying a sack of mail. Now see and get this clearly, Loale. It's important. It's so important I can't stand for any sort of mistake.
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