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Us and the Bottleman

Chapter 6 No.6

Word Count: 1801    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

ll right, and the summer went on again as usual. Of course we wrote to the Bottle Man at once, and told him, as respectfully as we could, just what we thought of him for letting the nati

rry said. It was worse than waiting for the next number of a serial story, because you're pretty ce

you take a stick and a kit-bag and eat your lunch under a hedge, like a tinker. We also wrote a story which we used to put in instalments under her plate at breakfast every other day.

e Jolly Nancy one afternoon just for kindness-we didn't hire her at all. She is a sixteen-footer and quite fast, in spite of being rather broad in the beam. He let each of us steer her and told us a great many names of things on her, which I forgot immediately. Jerry alwa

nd a big, square envelope lying on the hall table. And, to our despair, supper was just ready and we couldn't read the letter till afterward. Supper was

n't, and turned on the desk-light and got at the letter. I r

Com

now completely released, praises be. I am even contemplating escape from Bluar Boor by stealth. But no doubt you have no desire for these modern details and are all ago

y not human in shape. Arms and legs it had, of a sort, and scales, also, and finny spines, and a soft slimy body. Then, through the door which led to the silver street

arms, looking at me with unfathomable, disc-like eyes, black as ink. With dawning comprehension it came over me that these creatures inhabited the desolate, sea-filled c

ult way through the clinging swarm, who seemed friendly enough in a weird, inhuman way, but I could not pass through. Dimly through the swinging water I could see others coming from every carven doorway down the silent street. I thought then of the weights attac

to seal the little hole which I saw in it. Holding it tightly with my left hand, I slashed with my right at the creatures who were now moving upon me menacingly, pressing me close. If they forced me back into the doorway, all hope would be gone. I cut desperately at the fastenings that secured the weights; felt myself rising; felt my legs pull out from th

or I have no recollection of much more, until I sat in the library bow-window of my father's house, very tired and stiff and thoroughly thankful that the voyage

all the time I was gone because you wer

ime while you were sailing to the Port

r I felt weak and dizzy stil

after all I couldn't brin

h I am too modest to repeat, but which, being scholars, you will kno

d brass-handled highboy in the corner and the pots of flowers on the sill-far more be

ld young blades: don't you ever go listening to a half-breed Peruvian that come

ost fa

TLE

he dreamed i

," I said, switching off the light so that we could

e in the world? That's something like! Imagine finding gold trees and birds

ong memory. So we put on the light again and looked it up in "The Reader's Handbook," because we didn't want to bother the grown-ups, and we found, of course, that she was the Roman lady who pointed at her sons and said, "These

uing over all the exciting places in the Bottle Man's story, when Gr

id drowsily, "I wouldn't let it bite me. I'd keep

d, I suppose," said Jer

tering treasures and heaps of jewels each as big as your hat, and of o

*

the perfectl

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