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Updated: May 9, 2025
"S-o-m-e little bandits! what?" they asked one another over and over again. "S-o-m-e little bandits is right!" the approving answer came promptly. "S-o-m-e time, bo, s-o-m-e time!" a drink-solemn voice croaked in a corner of the big seat. Thus did the party of Christian Endeavorers return sedately from their trip to Mount Wilson.
"All right, Jackie, old boy, anything to please!" chanted the offender, cuffing the cap off the fellow next him. "Some time," he added with vague relish. "S-o-m-e time! What?" "Some time is right!" came the exuberant chorus. "Hey, Jack! u had some time, all right you and that brown-eyed queen that danced like Mrs. Castle. Um-um!
They cried "S-o-m-e time!" so often that the phrase struck even their fuddled brains as being silly. They met another car a large car with three women in the tonneau. These, evidently, were home-going theatre patrons who had indulged themselves in a supper afterwards.
He rode the wheel, holding the great car true as a bullet down the black streak of boulevard that came sliding to meet him like a wide belt between whirring wheels. The solemn voice that had croaked "S-o-m-e time!" so frequently, took to monotonous, recriminating speech. "No-body home! No-body home! Had to spill the beans, you simps! Nobody home a-tall!
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