At any rate, Stringer is after him, but he's got next to nothing to go upon.
You, Stringer, appear to think that Nurse Proctor is responsible.
Sowerby stared hard, and Stringer scratched his chin, reflectively.
Stringer emptied his glass of rum, and Sowerby disposed of his stout.
"It's the rain that's doing it," said the man beside Stringer.
Even as he spoke, a drop of rain fell upon the back of Stringer's hand.
"They didn't slip away from the wharf," cried Stringer over his shoulder.
"We have got them beaten," said Stringer, a faint note of triumph in his voice.
"I've just come back from that explosion," the Carson City stringer said.
As we rolled over the "stringer" of the bridge, I was partly under the horse.