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Updated: June 10, 2025
He sought forgetfulness in a species of mental intoxication, and countenanced his daughter's love idyll with such apparent approval that Lord Ventnor wondered whether Sir Arthur were not suffering from senile decay. The explanation of the shipowner's position was painfully simple.
They could see where the big tree had been uprooted, leaving a hole in the soil fifteen feet in diameter. The top of the tree was all of a hundred feet away from this hole. "We were lucky to be between the rocks, Phil," said Dave, with a grave shake of his head. "Otherwise, if that tree had come down on us " "We wouldn't be here to tell the tale," finished the shipowner's son.
He made for New York, and went straight to the shipowner's offices. These were situated at the very beginning of Broadway, overlooking Battery Park, on the tip of the tongue of Manhattan Island. Inside, they were very much on the same lines of the London offices in fact, the latter were modelled on them. Above the dome of the building stretched the antennæ of Larssen's wireless.
"Let us see if we can't get some more," pleaded Phil. The "fever" of hunting had taken possession of him. "We'll not find much in this neighborhood," said Dave. "But I am willing to go a little further," he added, seeing how disappointed the shipowner's son looked.
To some of the folks on the trip, going to bed on a train was much of a novelty, and they watched with interest while the porters made up the berths. "Do you remember the time we had Billy Dill along, and what he thought of sleeping on a train?" remarked Dave, to Phil and Roger. "I sure do," answered the shipowner's son, with a chuckle.
The old miners had the horses with them. "I wonder if they were hurt?" queried Phil. "They seem to be all right," returned Roger. "I wish they would look this way." "We'll have to signal to them," said Dave. "How are you going to do it?" asked the shipowner's son. "You can't call to them at such a distance. They wouldn't hear you." "We can give 'em a pistol shot, Phil." "Why, to be sure!
Yann had just come from his shipowner's where he had received his wages for the last summer's fishery, fifteen hundred francs, which, according to the custom of the family, he carried to his mother. The catch had been a good one, and he returned well pleased. Nearing Ploubazlanec, he spied a crowd by the side of the road.
"Oh, I reckon I can get away with my share," answered the shipowner's son calmly, as he reached for another portion of the fish. As there was no hurry, the boys and girls took their time over the meal, and many were the stories told and the jokes cracked while the food was disappearing. "If only some of the Oak Hall boys could see us now!" cried Dave. "Wouldn't they envy us!"
"No, if you go, I'll go too," declared the shipowner's son, who never cared to be left behind when anything was going on. The place where Abe Blower resided was down at the end of a side street, which, at this hour of the night, was dark and deserted. They had some little difficulty in finding the right number. The house stood back from the street, and not a single light shone within it.
"Better put the top up," advised the shipowner's son. "It's going to pour in a few minutes." "And hadn't we better put on the chains, too, Roger?" questioned Dave. "It may be dangerous work going down the hill if it rains hard." "Yes, we'll put up the top and put on the chains," was the quick reply of the senator's son. "You fellows attend to the top and I'll see to the chains."
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