Well, Judge, I got to be moving." "You are neither grammatical nor precise," snapped Judge Halloran.

"You mean _we_ must be moving." He linked arms with Tom and fell into step with him; he clung to that rigid arm, moreover, despite Tom's surly displeasure.

Not until a friend stopped them for a word or two was the distracted parent enabled to escape from that spidery embrace; then, indeed, he slipped it as a filibustering schooner slips its moorings, and made off as rapidly and as unobtrusively as possible.
Judge Halloran stared after the retreating figure, then he showed his decayed teeth in a smile.

"'Bob' is coming home to-day and the old Mountain Lion is on edge," he explained.

"I must warn the boys to stay away from the station and give him his hour.