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Updated: May 5, 2025
The jets sprayed out like spume-topped waves; they were whipped into ribbons that the winds of this world could not tear down, and the ribbons shone, waving white in the earthlight. The tortured stone was torn and ripped into twisted contortions whose very writhing told of the hell this had been.
Some trees have been sprayed with a 1 pound to 10 gallons solution by mistake. Shall I spray these again with full strength, and when? You have done enough for the moss at present. Even the weaker solution ought to be strong enough to clean the bark.
The weeping willows themselves fountains of green sprayed over a stone seat. The place bore signs of an honourable past; it was falling now gently to a comely decay; but it answered every purpose. All promised well. So much Captain Mosca was given to understand; yet it was hinted that his promises were not complete.
Hovan's reply changed the medic's expression. He checked the wound, cleaned it, then held the edges together and sprayed it with something cool and gray. The Traiti version of synthiskin, probably, Tarlac thought. Afterwards the medic checked and cleaned Hovan's cut, but didn't bother with any further treatment. It looked half-healed, whether or not it was.
Nig shook his wolf's coat and sprayed the water far and wide, made little joyful noises, and licked the face that was so still. But his master, like a man of stone, stared at that long gray pennon in the sky. If it isn't a steamer, what is it? Like an echo out of some lesson he had learned and long forgot, "Up-bound boats don't run the channel: they have to hunt for easy water."
"Yes," he admitted at last. "Yes, I'm Quimby." Mr. Magee threw back his coat, and sprayed with snow Mrs. Quimby's immaculate floor. "I'm Magee," he elucidated again, "William Hallowell Magee, the man Hal Bentley wrote to you about. You got his letter, didn't you?" Mr. Quimby removed his pipe and forgot to close the aperture as he stared in amazement.
The Southern cannon were more numerous, but the Northern guns, posted well on the hill, refused to be silenced. Some of them were dismounted and the gunners about them were killed, but the others, served with speed and valor, sprayed the whole Southern front with a deadly shower of steel.
High on the mountain where a mad little waterfall sprayed the bushes of laurel and rhododendron with quicksilver, the afterglow of the sunset on the tumbling water made a streak of saffron. The wings of a homing eagle were golden-black against the sky. Over there above the cornfields to the west there was a cliff and a black and bushy ravine over which soared a buzzard or two.
Until noon there was little heard but the thick breathing of weary men. Occasionally one tossed and shouted blasphemous warnings anent imaginary and bursting shells; whereat those within hearing whined in a tired and hopeless anger, and, if close by, kicked him. Trench nerves. All day the fire of many guns sprayed us.
"I'll pay out some more line," said the unperturbed Tubby. "I guess whatever we're onto begins to believe that he has swallowed something pretty indigestible." Faster and faster the Flying Fish began to cut through the sea. The water sprayed out from both sides of her cutwater in a steady stream.
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