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"No use, sir. You can’t walk around very well until the ship reaches brennschluss. Besides, you won’t find any space officers who’ll talk to you." Rip stared. "Why not?" "Because we’re Planeteers. They’ll give us the treatment. They always do. When the commander of this bucket gets good and ready, he’ll send for you. Until then, we might as well take it easy."
“Give Williamson two or three minutes more,” begged Hal. “You might tell Eph, though, to repeat, and repeat, the signal for top speed. That’ll show Williamson we’re losing.” Jack Benson walked to the conning tower, instructing Eph Somers in a low tone. “I’ve signaled twice, since the first time,” Eph replied. “But here goes some more.”
“I know,” nodded Captain Jack. “I’d hate to hurt a fine fellow’s feelings. Yet—confound it, I do want to win this burst of speed. It means, perhaps, the quick sale of this boat to the Navy. If we’re beaten it means, to the Secretary of the Navy, that he already has our best boat, and he might not see the need of buying the ’Farnum’ at all.”
"Is it that, or is it that we’re getting on, a little long in the tooth, logy in our movements?" "I think we’re just sick of helling it." Peter looked towards the star that last night had been the beacon towards which he and Judith had scaled the heights. "Yes, we get sick of helling it after we’ve turned thirty." "Then I can’t be making a mistake.
Benson laughed, though he said, warningly: “I reckon we’ll do as well to drop calling the gunboat the ’Dad boat’ instead of the ’parent vessel.’” “Well, you needn’t bother at all about the conning tower to-day,” wound up Eph, glancing at his watch. “It’s after half-past three at this moment and I understand we’re to drop anchor about five o’clock.”
The world’s a nice place. Though we’re bad the world’s all right. We’re good and bad, good and bad.... Come, tell me, I’ve something to ask you: come here every one, and I’ll ask you: Why am I so good? You know I am good. I’m very good.... Come, why am I so good?” So Grushenka babbled on, getting more and more drunk. At last she announced that she was going to dance, too.
"Seems to me, suh," Anse cut in now, "that three more guns is gonna be healthy for you to have ’round here, does th’ fight work out th’ way it can. Me, I don’t make no big brag on my shootin’—but I never did wear no six-gun, nor tote no carbine, jus’ for show." "Of course, if you think we’re Kitchell’s plants," Drew added, "then keep us under guard. Only we’re not and never were."
And then the sunrises we’re treated to, and the sunsets we’re crammed with, and the “golden clouds,” the “grand old woods,” the “distant dim blue mountains,” the “crystal lakes,” the “limpid purling brooks,” the “green-carpeted meadows,” and the whole similar lot of affected bosh, is enough to shake the faith of a practical man in nature as a natural institution, and to make him vote her an artificial humbug.
“What’s up?” cried Welsh, snatching at the letter. “He’s run away!” Welsh looked at him for a moment in some astonishment, and then burst out laughing. “What a joke!” he cried; “I don’t see anything to make a fuss about. We’re jolly well rid of him.” “The fee! I won’t get a penny till I bring him back. And the whole thing will be found out!”
To Judith it was more reassuring than an oath. "It’s like dogs fighting over a picked bone; the meat’s all gone. The range is overworked; it needs a good, long rest." He turned towards Judith, speaking slowly. "What you have said is true. We’re friends before we’re partisans of either faction. I’m on my way to a round-up. There’s been an unexpected order to fill a beef contract—a thousand steers.
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