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The Denverite members of the board, warned of his presence, had easily managed to elude him, and with others were now on their way to Argenta for a special meeting, while McCrea was still held at a distance, lured by an appointment for a conference to come off that very morning at eleven, long three hours after the other conferees had vanished from town. But no older head was there to advise.
Presently Truax settled back on his pillows. "Is there anything on your mind, my man?" asked Doctor McCrea, bending over the sufferer. "Is there anything you'd like to set right, before before " Doctor Mccrea's speech ended in an odd little click in his throat. "Doctor, am I am I " "Is there any little confession you would like to make?
“You thought it would be easy to get the better of a boy like Benson, I suppose.” “Easy enough,” admitted Sam. “So did Tip.” “You shot far below the mark in guessing at Benson’s ingenuity and brains,” remarked Doctor McCrea, laughing. “It was he who suggested this way of inducing you to make this confession after you had refused to answer the lieutenant commander’s questions.”
"How far down do you dare to take the boat?" asked Mr. Farnum, almost hesitatingly. "As far as you dare to let me," replied Jack, with spirit. "Watch the gauge, and tell me when to stop." "Jove, but you have a cool nerve, lad, if you back that up," laughed lieutenant McCrea. "Perhaps our young skipper is relying upon the caution of his employer," suggested Commander Ennerling, smiling.
That gentleman was Lieutenant McCrea, of the huge battleship "Luzon." "Of course," remarked Lieutenant MeCrea, "there's a whole lot of good theory about what submarine torpedo boats can do. In different naval evolutions, I admit, the submarines have made an excellent theoretical showing.
The mystic words throb with vital heat, and burn down into our souls to an answering fire. As we stand, on this soft summer day, by the old tree which tradition declares to have witnessed that fateful scene, we go back into a summer long ago, but fair and just like this. Jane McCrea is no longer a myth, but a young girl blooming and beautiful with the roses of her seventeen years.
"What!" now roared Sam Truax, sitting up in the berth and staring angrily. "Oh, the ippecac was my own choice," nodded the doctor, "but the general idea was Mr. Benson's. My man, with a lad like him you haven't a one-in-ten chance." "So, to work a confession out of me, you've poisoned me?" gasped Sam Truax. "Oh, you're not very badly poisoned," laughed Doctor McCrea.
Sam Truax became so much worse, in fact, that he did not even hear when the bow cable chains of the gunboat grated as the anchors were let go opposite Blair's Cove just before dark. Certainly no man of medicine could have been more attentive than was Doctor McCrea.
Silver Shield was so valuable that envious eyes had been directed to it, and fraudulent claims and claimants were constantly turning up. Threatened litigation would be long and expensive. It would be cheaper far to buy off the litigants. So Graham, with a sigh and sore premonition of trouble, obtained the necessary amount on his personal note. McCrea, with inward misgiving, borrowed and sent it.
He was freight conductor on the U.P. when I was a boy at Cheyenne. We'll nab him first thing in the morning." "Can't we nab him to-night?" asked Geordie. McCrea laughed. "You're keen as your father, Pops," said he. "Niver put off till t'-morrow what can be done the day." "The laddie's right," said Ross.
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