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To begin with, a horrid little monkey belonging to the crew amusing himself running about in the hammock-nettings near to the gangway over which the great man had to pass seeing something he thought unusual, made a rush as the commander-in-chief was stepping on board, stooped down, and deliberately took the cocked hat off his head, dropped it into the sea, then started up the rigging chattering with delight at the mischief he had done.
Clapped a cocked hat on him, bedad! That was a good joke! I will bring him too. One old man, one young man I'll fetch 'em both. Then I'll take you all where you want to go to. That is, as near as I can get to it, bedad. Now, you tell your ladies about this, and I'll have my sloop cleaned up a bit, and as soon as I can get my water on board I'm ready to hoist anchor."
Therefore, perhaps, his hat was a little more cocked than usual, and the lapels of his coat were thrown back a little wider, displaying the large jewelled studs which he wore in his shirt; and the arrogance conveyed by his mouth and chin was specially conspicuous.
"It aren't my fault." "In with you all," said the beachcomber, roughly; "and look here, I'm going to sit here a bit to finish my physic, so don't come out and disturb me. My black pack used to come prowling round sometimes of a night, but they never do now." As he spoke he took out a revolver and cocked it, before laying it down beside his tumbler of spirits with a meaning look.
But if it were not for the reminiscences associated with the character of Napoleon, who could ever admire his statue on the top of the column, in a costume so contrary to all that is graceful and dignified; a little cocked hat with its horrid stiff angles, a great coat with another angle sticking out, the tout ensemble presenting a deformity rather than an ornament: however there he stands on the pinnacle of what he and men in general would call the monument of his glory, a memento of blood, of tears of widows and orphans.
In a minute or two up would pop the little head with the bright eyes, in the grass-plot, and Master Whiskey would sit on his haunches and listen, with one small ear cocked towards her. Then she would throw him a hazel-nut, and he would slip instantly down into his hole again.
And when the other horses saw him looking at Dad with his tail cocked, and his head up, and the bridle-reins hanging, they went for their lives through the trees, and Blossom's foal got staked. Another day Dad was out on Ned, looking for the red heifer, and came across two men fencing a tall, powerful-looking man with a beard, and a slim young fellow with a smooth face. Also a kangaroo-pup.
In the midst of these equine freaks, the horse came so near me as to splash my nether garment with a liberality as little ornamental as it was pleasurable. The old Frenchman seeing this, took off his cocked hat very politely and apologized for the accident. I replied with equal courtesy; and, as our horses slid into quiet, their riders slid into conversation.
She seemed to be making her first acquaintance with Mother Nature claiming the heritage of outdoors that children so intensely covet. The sloped ceiling and the walls of the attic room had been sky and landscape for her. She peered into the still waters of the canal and saw the stars reflected there, and cocked her ear to listen when sleepy birds stirred above and chirped in their dreams.
One cocked his rifle on the impulse, then laughed when he realized what it was. Just before we parted one of them remarked, "You came through the Bee River four days ago, near a telephone, didn't you?" "Yes, but we didn't see any one," I replied. "No? But we saw you!" And we felt the smiles we could not see.
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