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Then he lurched in over the threshold, and coolly dodged a thick paw, with tearing white claws, that whipped at him with a round-arm stroke out of the pitch-darkness. The stroke was repeated, scraping, but in nowise hurting his matted coat, as he rose on his hindlegs and threw himself upon the striker.
The Eighth Ward would have elected me; but Bobbie ruined that," said Perkins, ruefully. "But how?" cried Mrs. Perkins. "Have our children been out making campaign speeches for the other side?" "They have," assented Perkins. "They have indeed. You remember that man Jorrigan?" "The striker?" queried Mrs.
He pulled a tube from his belt, held it above his head, and thumbed the striker mechanism. The tube flared, pushing downward on his hand. He held steady and plummeted feet first toward the rock. Santos was only a few seconds behind him. Rip saw the corporal's tube flare and knew that everything was all right, at least for the moment, even though the asteroid was still a long way down.
Tullius then seized his toga with both hands and dragged it from his neck. This was the signal for attack. Casca struck him first on the neck. The wound was not fatal, nor even serious, so agitated was the striker at dealing the first blow in so terrible a deed.
The striker, with a lust for more money and shorter hours, the party who wears the face off the clock, and the man with a continual eye on the pay-envelope, all have their reward and it is mighty small. Nemesis with her barrel-stave lies in wait for them around the corner. They get what is coming to them. The Oliver fortune is founded on reciprocity.
This time no cry came from her lips, but the slave, who had stood immovable while the punishment was being inflicted upon himself, made a desperate effort to break from the men who held him. He was unsuccessful, but before the whip could again fall on the woman's shoulders, Vincent sprang forward, and seizing it, wrested it from the hands of the striker.
He had come to me during the strike and had been deeply interested in the great crowd spirit I had found. He was going back to England now. "I'm curious," he told me, "to see how much your striker friends have kept of what they got in the strike what new ideas and points of view. How much are they really changed? That, I should think, is by far the most valuable part of it all."
"Want a job as striker, eh?" he asked, as Jack stated his errand. "I believe Henshaw does want another man. I will call him. What is your name?" "Alfret Offut, sir. It's me that wants the job, and it's me it belongs to." It was Jack North's enemy who spoke, as he paused on the threshold panting for breath, while glaring at our hero with a baleful look.
It so happened that Burt, our own striker, was one of the men detailed to go, and when I heard this I at once thought of the puppy I wanted so much.
"Our affairs at present lie in the town, for there is much to be settled before I take charge. Striker tells me the man who is farming the place is an able, honest fellow. I shall not disturb him. From what he says, my property is more desirable in every way than the land that fell to my father's widow. Her farm lies off to our left, it seems, and reaches almost to the bottomlands of the river.
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