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“Was it a close shave?” he asked as Bob sat up. “They’re coming!” [25]“When’s supper, Boss Whitney? I’m hungry enough to eat tacks!”.
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Conrad
Bob watched him for a moment and then said softly, “But if you can talk about it p’r’aps it will help. Don’t you think so?” What a clear light green the water was under the wharf! You could see every single snail shell, every starfish, and every tiniest stone on the smooth, light-colored bottom. Whole schools of small fish darted, quick as lightning, between the slimy old piles. Once in a while a lazy eel glided under the wharf, wound slowly in and out, lay still a moment as if to sun itself, then slowly, curve after curve, took itself out again. “What are you talking about, boy?” “A bunch of armed Mexicans! They had camped for supper. I figgered that they were coming on up here to-night, so I beat it straight for you. Bet Dad’s got a search party out huntin’ me right now!”.
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