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Updated: May 23, 2025
McGee had made this easier by tacitly accepting his conditions of their acquaintanceship, by seeming more natural, by exhibiting a gayety, and at times even a certain gentleness and thoughtfulness of conduct that delighted her husband and astonished her lover. Whether this wonderful change had really been effected by the latter's gloomy theology and still more hopeless ethics, he could not say.
Reckon it's likely yer are er goin' prospectin', maybe?" The boys returned an evasive answer. But old McGee rambled on with the crisscross wrinkles forming and fading round his washed-out blue eyes. "Wa'al, I had my share on it, ain't I, Zeb?" said the old man to Zeb, who had just strolled up, smoking a short, black pipe.
And of these was Yancey, the "flying fool" of the squadron, concerning whom there was never any agreement among the others as to whether he didn't know any better or knew better and did it because it was dangerous. McGee, with Siddons, Porter and Fouche following, swung eastward toward Dormans.
Larkin dived at the ground like a hawk that has sighted some napping rodent, and so near did he come that by the time he had leveled off, his wheels were almost touching the ground and wheels must not touch when one is screaming through space at the rate of a hundred and forty miles per hour. He glanced back. Sure enough, McGee was still on his tail. No hedge hopping, eh? Huh!
"Lieutenant McGee is modest concerning his duties," he said. "In fact, you will find all English officers becomingly modest." "But I am not English!" McGee corrected. "I am an American born in America, and that's why I have been so happy about this assignment." Several members of the squadron began edging nearer. Perhaps things were not going to be so dreadful after all. "Indeed?"
McGee was tickled pink by his timely arrival, but it was not all a matter of rejoicing. For one thing, it seemed that almost the entire group was made up of new faces. Of those flight pilots whom he had first met when he came to the squadron as an instructor, only three remained Yancey, Nathan Rodd and Siddons.
As we drove past them, young McGee went running into the house, saying to his mother: "It is Louis and George, and I'll kill one of them to-night." This raised quite an alarm, and the members of the family told him not to do that, as it would ruin them. As soon as George and I drove up to the first cabin, which was my wife's and Kitty's, we ran in.
"Who says so?" came the question in a tone tinged with unbelief, and Harry knew that it was the stubborn and dogmatic McGee who spoke. "Lieutenant Harry Kenton of the Invincibles, one of Stonewall Jackson's best regiments, has seen them. You know him; he was here yesterday." As he spoke, Captain Sherburne sprang from his horse and pointed to Harry. "You remember me, Captain McGee," said Harry.
He left inspection to no man. His air mechanic, knowing this, was equally careful in his work. This diminutive lieutenant was as mild as an April morning so long as all was well, but when something went wrong he could say more than a six foot Major-General. "All set, Sergeant?" McGee asked, finishing his inspection. "All set, sir. I just put a new valve in that wind driven gas pump.
Over the mountains, across the plains, by the Isthmus, and by the Horn they came, that wonderful procession which Bret Harte has made so familiar to us Truthful James, Tennessee's Partner, Jack Hamlin, John Oakhurst, Flynn of Virginia, Abner Dean of Angels, Brown of Calaveras, Yuba Bill, Sandy McGee, the Scheezicks, the Man of No Account, and all the rest.
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