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Snide, issue 2, February 1941
Page 16
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our chemical supplies, he created an alloy of chromium and beryllium (we had those, but no silver; silver's too expensive) which seems to be resistant to bird-droppings. We wished our hats were made of it. And so, despite our precarious position, we kept busy. All except Parsen. Parsen spent long hours crouching in the sand, writing numbers with a stick, and drooling. At intervals he would climb a tree and try to hang by his tail. We began to fear for his sanity. Labor Day. As the months went by, our chances grew slimmer and slimmer. They had been eating Rye-Krisp. Adversity, as if it had been waiting, stalked us. First of all, our gin tank burst. Parkers pointed out that the seams had been weakened by the hydrofluoric acid in the stuff. We retrieved as much as we could, with knives and forks. Again we took up the awful grind of carting the spilled fluid from the ground to our stomachs, and back again. What would happen, next? Second, during the next night of 28 hours, we nearly starved! Barnay somehow got at half the food in our refrigerator. We had ten hours of blinding, black, bilious night to last out. Finally, brave Captain Batwell [?ged] out into the pitch blackness, with a candle and a pea-shooter. Ten minutes later, when we had begun to hope he had got lost, he returned with the carcasses of two elephants and a guide slung over his shoulder. Captain Batwell had once again saved the day! Again, tragedy almost struck. Ginerton, 16
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our chemical supplies, he created an alloy of chromium and beryllium (we had those, but no silver; silver's too expensive) which seems to be resistant to bird-droppings. We wished our hats were made of it. And so, despite our precarious position, we kept busy. All except Parsen. Parsen spent long hours crouching in the sand, writing numbers with a stick, and drooling. At intervals he would climb a tree and try to hang by his tail. We began to fear for his sanity. Labor Day. As the months went by, our chances grew slimmer and slimmer. They had been eating Rye-Krisp. Adversity, as if it had been waiting, stalked us. First of all, our gin tank burst. Parkers pointed out that the seams had been weakened by the hydrofluoric acid in the stuff. We retrieved as much as we could, with knives and forks. Again we took up the awful grind of carting the spilled fluid from the ground to our stomachs, and back again. What would happen, next? Second, during the next night of 28 hours, we nearly starved! Barnay somehow got at half the food in our refrigerator. We had ten hours of blinding, black, bilious night to last out. Finally, brave Captain Batwell [?ged] out into the pitch blackness, with a candle and a pea-shooter. Ten minutes later, when we had begun to hope he had got lost, he returned with the carcasses of two elephants and a guide slung over his shoulder. Captain Batwell had once again saved the day! Again, tragedy almost struck. Ginerton, 16
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