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Of no avail now was it for the horsemen to halt dragging their mounts on their haunches, or to turn to fly. The ends of the lunettes had met, the pincer tips had closed. The mounted men were trapped within half-mile-wide circles. And in upon man and horse their living walls marched. Within those enclosures of the doomed began a frantic milling I shut my eyes
The weed had flung itself upon Pasadena and was curving back along Huntington Drive, while to the south the opposing pincer was feeling its way along Soto Street into Boyle Heights. It was only with the greatest difficulty that I passed through the police lines into the doomed district.
"If there must be a lunatic connected with our family, which I don't see why there should be, it seems to me to be you, Nathaniel Gladman." Mr. Gladman stared back with open mouth. Mr. Pincer went on impressively. "As for my poor old cousin Joe, he had his eccentricities, but that was all.
And his hand ceased squeezing my shoulder like a pincer to beat it like a mallet. A rapid sketch of the situation was mapped out in my head.
Pincer; the residue to his friend, William Clodd, as a return for the many kindnesses that gentleman had shown him. Mr. Gladman rose, more amused than angry. "And you think you are going to pocket that one thousand to twelve hundred pounds. You really do?" he asked Mr. Clodd, who, with legs stretched out before him, sat with his hands deep in his trousers pockets. "That's the idea," admitted Mr.
Another thing mentioned by Dunkie, which has stuck in my memory, was his running across a papoose's grave in an Indian burying-ground at Pincer Creek, when he was surveying, where the Indian baby had been buried above-ground, of course in an old Saratoga trunk.
Friday's ceremony was not a sociable affair. Mrs. Gladman spoke occasionally in a shrill whisper to Mr. Gladman, who replied with grunts. Both employed the remainder of their time in scowling at Clodd. Mr. Pincer, a stout, heavy gentleman connected with the House of Commons, maintained a ministerial reserve. The undertaker's foreman expressed himself as thankful when it was over.
He criticised it as the humpiest funeral he had ever known; for a time he had serious thoughts of changing his profession. The solicitor's clerk was waiting for the party on its return from Kensal Green. Clodd again offered hospitality. Mr. Pincer this time allowed himself a glass of weak whisky-and-water, and sipped it with an air of doing so without prejudice.
As a fitting climax to their horrific display, three of the men who had been with them on the reef entered, dragging behind them still enmeshed in the hunting net the gorp which Dane had stunned. It was uncurled now and very much alive, but the pincer claws which might have cut its way to safety were encased in balls of hard substance.
"Anyhow," remarked Mr. Gladman, licking his lips, which were dry, "you won't get anything, Mr. Clodd no, not even your three-hundred pounds, clever as you think yourself. My brother-in-law's money will go to the lawyers." Then Mr. Pincer rose and spoke slowly and clearly.
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