. St. Nicholas [serial]. way, the faces dancingoff insanely in a fog. Then there was a little stir behind him, and acold douche shocked his head and body. Backhe came in an instant, his brain clearer, and theecho of a question still sounding in his ears. Hedrew a long breath of cool air, and managed tosay: They were after me—I d not done a be putting me in the jail. Im a strangerhere, they would nt ave believed me. I ad toget away—ad to—get away. The jutting mustaches lifted and parted in agrin that revealed long yellow teeth like man turned away and said to somebody: We
. St. Nicholas [serial]. way, the faces dancingoff insanely in a fog. Then there was a little stir behind him, and acold douche shocked his head and body. Backhe came in an instant, his brain clearer, and theecho of a question still sounding in his ears. Hedrew a long breath of cool air, and managed tosay: They were after me—I d not done a be putting me in the jail. Im a strangerhere, they would nt ave believed me. I ad toget away—ad to—get away. The jutting mustaches lifted and parted in agrin that revealed long yellow teeth like man turned away and said to somebody: We been hearin that yarn afore, eh, Manuel!Stranger—the bulls on his heels—jail , Manuel? Rick saw one eye close in a wink. Then a newvoice answered: But—you can not go take heem back—no? 1921] PHANTOM GOLD 995 Not weeth them there to the dock-head, themeenspectors? Rick looked at this speaker. He was a short,dark man, yellow-brown skinned, with restlessblack eyes and glistening teeth that seemed for-. HE FELT HIMSELF HURTLING CRAZILY THROUGH AIR—OUT—DOWN—DOWN— ever smiling at, not with, ycu. He was an Italianor a Spaniard, perhaps a Portuguese; and heseemed out of place in North Atlantic waters, likea shark in the Baltic. His manner was polishedand suave. But this courtesy had the look of amask. It twinkled in his black eyes, hidingsomething, one could hardly say what. No, thats right, Manuel. A look of under-standing passed between those two, the big bulkand the little one. Well— How about a leetle cabeen-boy—for theLaughing Lass? he suggested softly. Style, eh, Manuel!You an me, we eats kid here totes thegrub down to us andclears away the swabs out our roomsoccasional. An—we gotno cook, Manuel! Whynot dont he cook for allhands? Cook, you?A bit, said me sir, youguttersnipe! or I 11—sothats settled. Take himbelow an show him thegalley. We 11 larn himhow to cook, with aropes end if needs git! On that wheel,now
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Keywords: ., bookauthordodgemar, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookyear1873
