Word: roped
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Watts and Hayes hooked ropes onto the box, started to haul it out. The rope slipped and Hayes went in to refasten it. Middleton raised his whistle to warn people in nearby buildings. The bomb went off. What was left of Hayes and Watts was buried under the collapsed stone building. Middleton's body was blown through a barbed wire barrier and across the Street of the Prophets. His police whistle was still in his mouth...
...reputation as a court jester for Hollywood sophisticates troubles Abe. He resents being called a cynic: "Cynics disbelieve real things; I disbelieve phonies." He claims he is working roughly along the lines of Will Rogers, except that he uses a piano instead of a rope. "The people . . . are just like me. ... I don't want to talk like Carl Sandburg, but I like the people...
...executive officer of the Berengaria, Illingworth's morning duty was to see that everything was shipshape. His special aversion was "Irish pennants"-ends of rope hanging where no end of rope should hang. "Bosun, what's that rope end dangling there for?" Illingworth would say. "Sorry, sir," the boatswain would answer, sending Seaman Brown to cut the end off. One morning, from a porthole, Illingworth spied two members of the crew, arms loaded with rope ends, tying them here & there to prepare a sort of treasure hunt for him. When he appeared for inspection, he spotted the first...
Last week Bangkok police ambushed five armed robbers and stripped them of their lethal weapons: two revolvers, one automatic pistol, five long, double-edged knives, three bundles of rope and a dozen lemons. The last item represents a new twist in Bangkok banditry. Armed robbers use the lemons to gag wealthy victims in daylight housebreaks...
Some museumgoers wished that Benton had done his drinking before starting to paint. To them, his portrait looked as inert and uninspired as a coil of rope. But the conservative officials of Boston's museum seemed to feel that Benton had captured a vanishing type on canvas. And for once, Tom Benton, who used to complain that an art museum was a graveyard "run by a pretty boy with delicate wrists and a swing in his gait," agreed with the officials. His friend Hough, said Benton, "is a good old New England editor...