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Updated: September 9, 2025
The sharp crack of rifle-shots showed that the snipers were busy on both sides, and once I stood in a deep pool, with the water up to my knees, listening to what sounded like the tap-tap-tap of invisible blacksmiths playing a tattoo on an anvil. It was one of our machine-guns at work a few yards away from my head, which I ducked below the trench parapet.
"At dawn the rifle fire began, and the tap-tap-tap of the Maxims, steady and continuous, with vibrations like two men wrestling in an alternate grip, tightening and relaxing." It was not light enough for the gunners to see the registering marks, but at a quarter before eight in the morning the bombardment began. "The thunderous orchestra of the guns shook the earth and rent the skies.
But with my stuffing of straw it came around me as snug at the belt as the coat of a bear. I took alarm as I closed the buttons. For half a minute I had heard a drum-tap coming nearer. It was the measured tap! tap! tap-tap-tap! so familiar to me. Now I could hear the tread of feet coming with it back of the hill.
Jombatiste read on, the story of the woman who, when her three sons died in an accident due to negligence on their employer's part ... he read no more that day, for Cousin Tryphena put her gray head down on the center-table and wept as she never had done in her life. Jombatiste rose softly and tiptoed out of the room. The tap-tap-tap of his hammer rang loud and fast the rest of that day.
There was quite a little group when another person turned the corner of the street. He was a shabby boy on crutches, and he had a frantic look on his face. And Marco actually heard, as he drew near to the group, the tap-tap-tap of crutches. "It might be," he thought. "It might be!" And he sang the trumpet-call of the chorus as if it were meant to reach the skies, and he sang it again and again.
Pett's guests had been less noisily concentrated on their conversation, they might have heard the muffled tap-tap-tap that proclaimed that Jerry Mitchell was punching the bag upstairs. It was not until he had punched it for perhaps five minutes that, desisting from his labours, he perceived that he had the pleasure of the company of little Ogden Ford.
She tapped now, very gently, with her fingers on the lower panel of the door, quaking and trembling in every limb, but taking care to make her little noise unevenly, in a way that would be certain to attract attention inside. Tap-tap-tap. Pause. Tap-tap. Pause. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. Pause. Tap-tap. The door opened suddenly.
Not alone in the daytime, but also sometimes, when orders were heavy, far into the night. It was strange for one, passing along that deserted street at midnight, to hear issuing from the black shop of Boaz Negro the rhythmical tap-tap-tap of hammer on wooden peg. Nor was that sound all: no man in town could get far past that shop in his nocturnal wandering unobserved.
In spite of her emotion, the large, brightly colored pictures did force their way through her eye to her brain, instinct in every fiber with the modern habit of taking in impressions from the printed page; and for years afterwards she could have told the names of the birds they saw during that long, still half-hour, broken by no sound but the tap-tap-tap of Mr. Bristol's typewriter.
Ann, meanwhile, had made her way down the passage to the gymnasium which Mr. Pett, in the interests of his health, had caused to be constructed in a large room at the end of the house a room designed by the original owner, who had had artistic leanings, for a studio. The tap-tap-tap of the leather bag had ceased, but voices from within told her that Jerry Mitchell, Mr.
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