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They have to, or lose their reputations." Half an hour later a business-like honk! was heard. Then, through the trees Dick & Co. saw an automobile halt down at the side of the road. A tall, stout man, who looked to be about sixty-five years old, but who displayed the strength and speed of a young man, leaped from the car, followed by the tramp messenger. "Mr. Prescott?" called the big stranger.
The Cadillac roadster was still following pertinaciously, but it was too far back to honk at us. When we slid down to the Victorville garage and stopped for gas, the Cadillac slid by. The driver in the panama gave us one glance through his colored glasses, but I felt, somehow, that the glance was sufficiently comprehensive to fix us firmly in his memory.
"There she is now," said Peter over their shoulders. Varney turned and looked ashore at the point where the gig was patiently waiting. There was no sign of anybody there. "Upstream," added Peter, and the sudden honk of a motor-horn punctuated the observation like a full stop.
With a lawn mower brought from home she was cutting the grass on her family lot. And she seemed to fit into the landscape. New England had grown very old. Late one night toward the end of July, there came a loud honk from down the hill, then another and another. And as George in his pajamas came rushing from his bedroom shouting radiantly, "Gee! It's dad!" they heard the car thundering outside.
"Where do they go?" said Mr. Mann one day to Benjamin. The boy told him of a wonderful island, now known as Whidby, where there were great gatherings of flocks of geese in the fall. "Let's go see," said he. "The geese are thicker than the bushes there the ponds are all alive with them there honk honk honk! Let's go see." "When the school is over for the fall we will go," said Mr. Mann.
Then one night after the weather had begun to get cooler and clearer, we heard, far, far overhead, the honk, honk of the wild geese, flying southwards to distant lagoons, and Hansen reminded me that in another week our term of service came to an end. "What made you think of it?" I asked. "The cry of the wild geese going South." For we, too, longed for the South again.
He finally consented, however, to send for the chief priest and see if he could persuade him, in view of my limited time, to grant a special dispensation to a native who could drive a car. I don't know what arguments he used, but they must have been effective, for within the hour we heard the honk of a motor-horn at the Residency gate.
I took care all the time to have the Cossacks either ahead of me or at the side. About noon we heard the distant honk of a motor car and soon saw Baron Ungern whizzing by us at full speed. With him were two adjutants and Prince Daichin Van. The Baron greeted me very kindly and shouted: "Shall see you again in Urga!" "Ah!" I thought, "evidently I shall reach Urga.
Grunt," she is saying, "how interesting it must be to be in your place and feel such tremendous power. Our hostess was just telling me that you own practically all the shoemaking machinery factories it IS shoe-making machinery, isn't it? east of Pennsylvania." "Honk!" says Mr. Grunt. "Honk!" says Mr. Grunt. "But still you must find it sometimes a dreadful strain, do you not?
A Cape Cod story about a wise old gander whose adventure on the sea insured him against the perils of the Thanksgiving hatchet. For boys or girls. There is one sound that I shall always remember. It is "Honk!" I spun around like a top, one summer day when I heard it, looking nervously in every direction.
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