This action may take several minutes for large corpora, please wait.
doc#144 | catapulted him head first into the wall. </p><p> | The | building shook, setting the lantern to |
doc#145 | again. "Nate! Nate"! he shouted. </p><p> | The | Burnsides, now ready to roll, were purposefully |
doc#145 | hair than that on a piece o' bacon". </p><p> | The | two tall brothers waited silently while |
doc#146 | consequence on this side of the street. </p><p> | The | Palace was an elaborate establishment, |
doc#147 | Donovan said as he jumped off the wing. | The | expression was his trade-mark, his open |
doc#147 | members of his flight fell in behind him. | The | dark brown bombs hanging under each wing |
doc#147 | under each wing looked large and powerful. | The | pilots' heads looked ridiculously small |
doc#147 | He shivered in the warm cockpit. </p><p> | The | overcast was solid above him. As far as |
doc#147 | on a collision course. Friend or enemy? | The | same old question. And only a few seconds |
doc#148 | had with him was to work four hours a day. | The | rest of the time I devoted to painting |