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"Wot would they want to be settin' in th' sun for?" demanded Galton brusquely. "'Ow do I know? If they was Eth'opians, wouldn't they set in th' sun?" "This is as clost as we'll ever git," surmised another voice. "The night breeze'll blow 'er back where she come from." "Well, w'ere's that?" demanded Mulcher savagely.

Of a sudden, "W'ere's the gel?" he sputtered thickly as his quick shifting eyes for the first time noted Dorothy's absence. "Miss Calendar has other business none with you. I've taken the liberty of stopping you because I have a word or two " "Ow, you 'ave, 'ave you?

"Rg'lar cat!" said M'riar, estimating her as quickly as she had appraised the youth. "She's 'is mother, but she's catty. Dogs 'ud 'ate 'er, Hi'll go bail." Her attention was absorbed, then, by the great problem of getting by the officer who examined steerage-tickets, without being seen by Kreutzer and his daughter. "W'ere's yer luggage?" asked the officer. "Luggage! Huh!" said M'riar.

"It's hard to say," replied Amber vaguely, preoccupied. He went immediately to a window and stood there, looking out. "But w'ere's Mr. Rutton, sir?" "Gone out there I don't know just where." Amber moved back to the table. "You see, he had a caller." "A caller, sir on a night like this?" "The man he came here to hide from," said Amber.

Floundering to a foothold, he cast about vainly for a clue to the other's whereabouts; for if the night was thick in the open, here in the trench its density was as that of the pit; the man could distinguish positively nothing more than a pallid rift where the walls opened overhead. "Well, sullen, w'ere's yer manners? Carn't yer answer a civil question?"

"Th' fire's in th' hold!" cried Galton hoarsely. "Did you men drop a match?" "'Ow could they drop a match, wearin' nothin' but undershirts?" flared back another navvy. "We could do no good in a small boat!" cried Galton. 'She's afire from stem to stern!" "But smoke w'ere's th' smoke?" Then, quite surprisingly, the light wavered out, leaving the schooner in stony blackness.

The stretchers were set down in the bottom of the trench and hasty examinations made by the light of a flash lamp. "W'ere's 'e caught it?" "'Ere it is, through the leg. Tyke 'is puttee off, one of you!" "Easy, now! It's smashed the bone! Stick it, matey! We'll soon 'ave you as right as rain!" "Fer Gawd's sake, boys, go easy! It's givin' me 'ell! Let up! Let up just a minute!"

"Wessyoocumfro?" Again Lancey repeated the word, and once more, with a smile of sudden intelligence, exclaimed, "Ah, I see: w'ere's you come from? Well, I last come from the water, 'avin' previously got into it through the hupsettin' of our boat."

"Oh, Père Jerome! mo pas conné, I dunno. You know w'ere's dad 'ouse of Michè Jean Tomkin? Mo courri 'ci, mo courri l

Someone struck a match and looked at his face; it was smeared with blood. Then the crowd rendered "first aid" in the street fashion. "Wot's yer name? W'ere d'yer live? 'Ow did it 'appen?" And at each question they shook him vigorously, impatient at his silence. The buzz of voices increased. "W'ere's the perlice?" "Not w'ere they're wanted, you may be sure."