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Updated: June 26, 2025
"Kaú fai!" shrilled the voices below; and then in a fainter gabble, as though hurrying off toward the sound, "kaú fai!" "The Black Dog," said Heywood, quietly. "He has barked. Earlier than we figured, Gilly. Lucky the scaffolding's up. Gentlemen, we all know our posts. Guns are in the first bedroom. Quietly, now. Rudie, go call Chantel. Don't frighten the women.
Both of these officers had known Prince Rudie well; had hunted with him; travelled with him; served with him; had often been at his hunting-lodge Mayerling, where he died, but, when they came to refer to this part of their narrative, they were so visibly embarrassed that we changed the subject to the Princess Stephanie.
"By Jove, my dream!" sounded the voice of Heywood, gravely. With fingers that dripped gold, he tried to pat the bounding terrier. She flew up at him, and tumbled back, in the liveliest danger of falling overboard. "Old girl, my dream!" The figure rose. "Hallo, Rudie." In a daze, Rudolph gripped the wet and shining hands, and heard the same quiet voice: "Rest all asleep, I suppose? Don't wake 'em.
So precious few of us, and trouble ahead. The natives lashing themselves into a state of mind, or being lashed. The least spark Rough work ahead, and here we are at swords' points." "And the joke is," Rudolph added quietly, "I do not know a sword's point from a handle." Heywood turned, glowered, and twice failed to speak. "Rudie old boy," he stammered, "that man Preposterous!
Kind of a pet, Dutch is." "Rudie Schlachweiler!" murmured Ivy, dreamily. "What a strong name!" "Want some peanuts?" inquired her father. "Does one eat peanuts at a ball game?" "It ain't hardly legal if you don't," Pa Keller assured her. "Two sacks," said Ivy.
"Neither do I. Powder's bad, anyhow. We must guess at it. Here, quick, lend me a knife." He slashed open one of the lower sacks in the bulkhead by the door, stuffed in some kind of twisted cord, and, edging away, sat for an instant with his knife-blade gleaming in the ruddy twilight. "How long, Rudie, how long?" He smothered a groan. "Too long, or too short, spoils everything. Oh, well here goes."
"That's why they've all been lying doggo," he continued. "And then their bad marksmanship, with all this sniping they don't care, you see, whether they pot us or not. They'd rather make one clean sweep, and 'blow us at the moon. Eh? Cheer up, Rudie: so long as they're digging, they're not blowing. Are they?"
They listened, breathing short. No sound came. "Gone out," said Heywood, gloomily. "Or else they saw it." He climbed the bamboo scaffold, and stood looking over the wall. Rudolph perched beside him, by the same anxious, futile instinct of curiosity, for they could see nothing but the night and the burning stars. "Gone out. Underground again, Rudie, and try our first plan."
The doorman, too, was human. So it came about that the newspaper boys who ran with messages to the reporters' offices across the street, found them there and held a meeting over them. Rudie, the smartest of them, declared that his "fingers just itched for that sheeny's whiskers," but the others paid little attention to him.
The man in the story, that dipped in dragon's blood, was made invulnerable." "Oh?" He stood plainly at a loss. "Oh, I see. German, wasn't he? Pity they didn't pop Rudie Hackh in!" Her swift upward glance might have been admiration, if she had not said: "Your mind works very slowly." "Oh?" Again he paused, as though somewhat hurt; then answered cheerfully: "Dare say. Always did.
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