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Updated: April 30, 2025
Then they rolled out upon a clattering bridge, turned a corner, and before them lay the river. Joe slowed down the car. A tiny light flashed and then lay stretching its rays in a yellow ripple out into a blue-black immensity. A shadow, beyond it and entirely detached, appeared drifting slowly, and passed them, an empty "plop-plop" following vaguely in its wake.
The "plop-plop" stopped. The seal had gone down under the ice, but Menie meant to find the hole. He went out quite near the open water in his search. At last, just beyond a hummock of ice, he saw it! He crept carefully up to it. He lay down on his stomach and peeped into the hole to see what it was like. He could not see a thing! Then he stuck his lance down.
However, other things soon occur to divert our minds; one or two false alarms that the enemy has been sighted are satisfactorily straightened out, with more flag-wagging, and finally the plop-plop of blank cartridge is heard in the distance. The advance guard now extends in long skirmishing lines with a view to brushing aside any slight resistance offered by the enemy.
We passed the Duchess again, and scratched the nose of her poodle, which was looking out of the carriage window. Miss Phaeton flicked Rhino, and the groom behind went plop-plop on the seat. "He lives in town, you know," remarked Miss Phaeton. "They mostly do and write about the country," said I. "Why shouldn't they?" she asked fiercely. "My dear Miss Phaeton, by all means let them," said I.
The plop-plop of a churn dasher told him Juanita was here even before his eyes could make her out in the darkness. Presently he saw more clearly the slender figure bent a little wearily over the churn. Softly he trod forward. His hand went out and closed on the handle above hers. In startled surprise she turned. "You Pablo!" she cried faintly.
The grandeur and terror of it clutched at his heart and thrilled along his nerves as the thunder went rumbling and grumbling off to the other end of the world, leaving the wood so quiet and still that the little hammers inside seemed almost as loud as the plop-plop of the first big raindrops on the leaves. But, in spite of secret tremors, he wanted tremendously to hear the thunder speak again.
But, no there is always the drone and the squawking of the German shells, and the plop-plop, from time to time, as one finds its mark in the mud nearby. But to think of shooting always at an enemy you cannot see! It brought to my mind a tale I had heard at hame in Scotland.
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