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I can't get into the proving grounds." "You can't? Why not?" and he looked sharply at the sentry. "Very sorry, sir," spoke the man on guard, "but General Wailer has left orders, Captain Badger, that no outsiders can enter the proving grounds when his new gun is being tested unless he countersigns the permits. And he's engaged just now. I'm sorry, but "
And the gun I am planning will need something more powerful in the powder line than any I've ever heard of." "Stronger than the kind General Wailer used?" inquired Ned. "Yes, but I'll make my cannon correspondingly stronger, too, so there will be no danger." "Bless my shoe buttons!" exclaimed Mr. Damon.
It was the figure of the wailer whom he had come to still, the figure of a young woman with a wooden skewer through the split septum of her nose, with a heavy metal ornament depending from her lower lip, which it had dragged down to hideous and repulsive deformity, with strange tattooing upon forehead, cheeks, and breasts, and a wonderful coiffure built up with mud and wire.
But we have also names like ramku and nisakku, 'libation pourer, which emphasize the sacrificial functions of the priest; and in an interesting list of temple servitors, 'the dirge singers' are introduced as a special class, and appropriately designated as munambû, 'wailer, and lallaru, 'howler. Of some terms in this list, like asinnu, it is doubtful whether they indicate a special class of priests or are terms for servitors in general, attached to a temple; in the case of others, like nâsh pilakki, 'ax carrier, we do not know exactly of what nature the service was.
Here, however, Zarathustra could no longer restrain himself; he took his staff and struck the wailer with all his might. "Stop this," cried he to him with wrathful laughter, "stop this, thou stage-player! Thou false coiner! Thou liar from the very heart! I know thee well! I will soon make warm legs to thee, thou evil magician: I know well how to make it hot for such as thou!"
But this new gun they are going to test is considerably smaller, I understand. "It was invented by a General Wailer, and is, I think, about twelve inches across at the muzzle. In spite of that comparatively small size, it fires a projectile weighing a thousand pounds, or half a ton, and takes five hundred pounds of powder.
The much-bedraggled woman was young, with falling strands of silken hair, which she wound up with one hand while holding the baby. Marie took the poor wailer from her with a divine motion and carried it to the hearth. "Who brought you here?" demanded La Tour of the girl. She cowered before him, but answered nothing.
Its range, of course, no one knows yet, though I have heard it said that General Wailer claims it will shoot twenty miles." "Whew! Some shot!" "I'm going to beat it," declared Tom, "and I want to do it without making such a monstrous gun that it will be difficult to cast it.
"But that's just what we want to see!" cried Tom. "We want to get in there purposely for that. Can't you send word to General Wailer?" "I can't leave my post," replied the sentry, shortly. "You'll have to come another time, when the General isn't busy. You can't get in unless he countersigns that permit." "Then it may be too late to witness the test," objected the young inventor.
You fella finish sing out, savvee? You fella no finish sing out I make finish damn quick." He threatened the wailer with his fist, and the black cowered down, glaring at him with sullen eyes. "Sing out no good little bit," the white man went on, more gently. "You no sing out. You chase um fella fly. Too much strong fella fly.
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