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Updated: May 4, 2025
"I suppose the rascally spy isn't still in this clump of timer, eh?" remarked one of the soldiers, with a glance around. "No, not likely," was the reply of the one who had been made a prisoner. "Probably he got away from here as quickly as possible, after making a prisoner of me."
Two lights crossed the lenses of her eyes, but no timer could have caught them. "Where?" she asked. "Who knows? He's so utterly oblivious to everything, living in an age so long before the Christian era, that it would be a paradox to take him into a latter-day church." While speaking she had come down the steps. He helped her in and settled himself comfortably beside her.
The Swedish corporal showed Rip that he had only about eight feet of tape left. Kemp was almost down. Rip called, "Kemp. When you reach bottom, cut toward the center. Leave an inverted cone." "Got it, sir. Be up in two more cuts." Dominico had connected cable to the bomb terminals and was attaching a timer to the other end. Without the wooden case, the bomb was like a fat, oversized can.
Coming from the barren deserts of Nevada and Western Utah from the land where the irreverent and irrepressible "Old Timer" fills the air with a sulphurous odor from his profanity and where nature is seen in its sternest aspect, and then suddenly finding one's self literally surrounded by flowers and conversing with Beauty about Religion, is enough to charm the heart of a marble statue.
He opened wider the gasoline throttle of the engine, and advanced the timer. Instantly the boat shot ahead, as the motor ran at twice the number of revolutions. "That's something like!" cried Paul admiringly. "She sure has got speed," murmured Innis. On they sped, talking of the girls, of their plans for the summer, and the coming examinations. "Hark!
The salesman, a lean Westerner, looked pained. "What do you want for the price? A Jaguar?" "No," Scotty said. "Just something that runs." "This runs." "Not exactly. It limps. Put a new timer in, replace the front-wheel bearings, grind the valves, and we'll take it." Rick smothered a grin. Scotty's wink had told him the jeep would do. His pal was trying to get the price down. The salesman sighed.
While the radio man was reporting, the instrument man on the team would line up the UFO and begin to call out the angles of elevation and azimuth. The timer would call out the time; the recorder would write all of this down. The command post, upon hearing the report of the UFO, would call the next patrol and tell them. They too would try to pick it up.
"Why not write him a note?" suggested Garry. "You can enclose it in one to Nate, asking him to deliver it the next time he goes into the woods to make an inspection trip. Mr. Fernald here will mail it for you when he gets off the train." "That's a bully idea, Garry. Didn't have brains enough to think of it myself," chattered Dick. "Never mind, old timer.
You may get a man to answer your questions in a sort of a way but you really do not have his attention always when he talks to you. You would better not call on a man at all than go at him in a listless sort of a way. This is where the old timer has the bulge over the new man. I once knew a man who had been a successful clerk for many years who started on the road with a line of pants.
Quit your kiddin', bo, and keep a watch out." And he added glumly, "Spark plugs is O.K. Maybe it's the timer. I'll have to trace it up. Quit turning your back on that brush! You want us both to git killed? Hand me out that small wrench." "Say, I know what ailed them squaws, Bland. Gods is right. You know what they thought? They took us for their Thunder Bird lighting.
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