For a moment he continued to gaze through the obscuring haze of tobacco smoke, uncertain as to the other's identity, his eyes growing angry, his square jaw set firm. "W-who is the f-f-feller?" he questioned gruffly. "Wh-what 's she m-mean l-leavin' me to go over th-thar ter h-him?" Beth Norvell glanced up frankly into his puzzled face.

He gazed about the room. It was eerie. Then he took a few steps toward the safe. Marie put out her hand to it, and started back. "Why, that safe is all covered with cold sweat!" she cried with bated breath. Sure enough the face of the safe was beaded with dampness. Jennings put his hand on it and quickly drew it away, leaving a mark on the dampness. "Wh-what do you think of that?" he gasped.

Brown's train comprised twenty teams, and the other twenty-six. His train happened to be in the lead that day, and as they neared the bridge, Brown rode back to the other wagon-master and said: "B-B-Billy, wh-what are you g-g-going to do about p-p-paying t-t-toll on this b-b-bridge?"

"Wh-what?" stammered Sara. "Mad or sad?" repeated the Gunki, twirling their thumbs. "They mean, my dear," explained the Teacup, "were you crying because you were angry, or for some more or less legitimate reason because you cut your finger, for instance, or broke one of the charming children you had with you the other day? Because "

Out of Banker's foaming lips came a snarling cry. "Wh-what fer?" Again the answer was not direct, and this time it was Solange he spoke to, though he did not alter the direction of his gaze. "Mademoiselle, you are directly in line with these men. You had better move aside." But Solange felt the pressure of a gun muzzle at her back and the snarl was in her ear. "You don't move none!

"We'll git one. Might app'int Will, there, only he don't seem to want to get mixed up in it." "There's the agent," cried the judge, holding out the appointment to Jethro. "Wh-what?" ejaculated Lem. Jethro took the appointment, and put it in his cowhide wallet. "Be you the agent?" demanded the amazed stage driver.

Quickly he placed a cap, attached to it, over the nose and mouth of the poor girl, and started the machine. "Wh-what is it?" gasped Drummond as he saw Adele's hitherto motionless breast now rise and fall. "A pulmotor," replied the doctor, working quickly and carefully, "an artificial lung. Sometimes it can revive even the medically dead. It is our last chance with this girl."

"Wh-what!" gasped Perry. "So it is! Then, where's mine! I mean ours? How did I get this one?" "Search me! If you don't know, I'm blessed if I do," chuckled Caspar Temple. "You must remember something that's happened since yesterday morning!" "Han and I went ashore," said Perry, staring puzzledly at the milk-can from which a tiny stream was trickling past the loosened stopper.

Slowly, very slowly his dementia left him. His eyes were still distended, to be sure, but into them sanity, recognition, began to creep. He stared dazedly about him, and at last he managed to speak Doret's name. "Wh-what you doing here?" he breathed. "Me? I come to tak' you back." Joe shook his head weakly. "You can't. We're across safe."

"We'll git one. Might app'int Will, there, only he don't seem to want to get mixed up in it." "There's the agent," cried the judge, holding out the appointment to Jethro. "Wh-what?" ejaculated Lem. Jethro took the appointment, and put it in his cowhide wallet. "Be you the agent?" demanded the amazed stage driver.