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"This village was built of mud and stone, and had no streets. Some few yellow-and-brown persons popped their heads out-of-doors, looking about like Welsh rabbits with Worcester sauce on em. Out of the biggest house, that had a kind of a porch around it, steps a big white man, red as a beet in color, dressed in fine tanned deerskin clothes, with a gold chain around his neck, smoking a cigar.
It goes to twenty below in the winter, sometimes, and the wind blows like the plug had popped out of the North Pole, and the snow covers up the sheep on the range and smothers 'em, and you lose all you got down to the last chaw of t'backer. But you stick, some way, and you forgit you ever had a home back in Indiana, where strawberries grow."
Again the same force would not let him touch the bottom and stay in the coolness, but lifted him to the surface. He popped out and heaved a sigh so deep that he had a feeling of space and freshness, not only in his chest, but in his stomach.
This he placed on the carpet, and then squatted himself down, cross-legged, beside it. Another attendant soon followed, bearing the tea-pot, and he likewise popped himself down. After a conjuration of some minutes, the cups were brought round, containing weak black tea, exquisite in flavour, but marvellously small in quantity. There appeared no milk, but plenty of sugar-candy.
Just then, when Bumper began to feel a little proud about his future home, a great noise and clatter behind the door startled him, and it opened so suddenly that he nearly popped out of the lady's arms. And what happened to him behind that door of the big house might fill chapters and chapters, but it will all be told in the next story.
A speck of red in the grass outside the house caught her attention. Her stint was not finished by several squares, yet the temptation of that strawberry was too great. Laying aside her work, she stepped out and popped the luscious red berry into her mouth. Beyond it she found a cluster of berries ripe and juicy.
He saw they would show nothing if they could feel sure he hadn't made them out; so that he had before him for a few seconds his own hesitation. It was a sharp fantastic crisis that had popped up as if in a dream, and it had had only to last the few seconds to make him feel it as quite horrible.
Wilson began to examine us, my opponent popped up above me. Accordingly I lost no opportunity of setting the master against him, and succeeded several times in getting him severely beaten for faults of which he was innocent. I can hardly describe the joy that it gave to my heart to see a wicked creature suffering, for, though he deserved it not for one thing, he richly deserved it for others.
A heap of cast-off shells presented itself, and I popped into an enormous crab cover, where I waited for my unknown companion to overtake me. "As the steps came near I peeped carefully out, and what should I see but an ugly South American river-wolf, about three and a half feet long, with a short, close fur of a bright ruddy yellow.
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