human
Now the boss'd gone over in this one to Tampico in the early evening, and just about ten minutes ago I spots it landin' with a sousy bunch of Federals at the East Coast, and swipes it back according. Where's the boss? He ain't hurt, is he? Because I'm going after him.
gpt
No, you're not, Peter, Davies said.
human
Mr. Frisbie is safe at the Southern Hotel, all except a five-inch scalp wound from a brick that's got him down with a splitting headache. He's safe, so you're going with us, going to take us, I mean, up beyond Panuco town.
gpt
Huh?--I can see myself, Peter retorted, wiping his greasy nose on a wad of greasy cotton waste.
human
I got some cold. Besides, this night-drivin' ain't good for my complexion.
gpt
My boy's up there,
human
Well, he's bigger'n I am, and I reckon he can take care of himself.
gpt
And there's a woman there--Miss Drexel,
human
Who? Miss Drexel? Why didn't you say so at first! Peter demanded grievedly. He sighed and added,
gpt
Well, climb in an' make a start. Better get your Dutch friends to donate me about twenty gallons of gasoline if you want to get anywhere.
human
Won't do you no good to lay low, Peter Tonsburg remarked, as, at full speed, headed up river, the _Topila's_ searchlight stabbed them.
gpt
High or low, if one of them shells hits in the vicinity--_good night_!