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"That fella boy he sick, belly belong him walk about," Binu Charley said, pointing to the Poonga-Poonga man whose shoulder had been scratched by the arrow an hour before. The boy was sitting down and groaning, his arms clasping his bent knees, his head drooped forward and rolling painfully back and forth.
Indeed, the effect was almost comical when he lifted it and scratched his head and then rubbed his chin with it; it made him look part bumpkin and part sailor. He bore the scrutiny of the company very well, and presently bowed again to the governor as one who waited the expression of that officer's goodwill and pleasure.
I tried to warn him, but he couldn't understand, of course; so, not knowing how else to instruct him, I scratched back one day, laughing myself like he was, but sinking my nails right fierce into the back of his little fat neck. He relaxed the tension in his own fingers. He was hurt, for the tears started, but he never cried.
"He couldn't," cried Marcus. "Think not? Then he'd have scratched a way for himself under the door." "Well, but then?" "Oh, then he'd have stood and smelt about till he'd got hold of our scent, and then come on." "What, all this way and all this time? The scent couldn't have lain so long."
"Excuse me," said she, in a charming voice, but with a severe air. "But may I ask if you have just picked up that coin?" Mr Sandbach, after looking vaguely, as if for inspiration, at Mr Gale, was obliged to admit that he had. "Well," said the young lady, "if it's dated 1898, and if there's an 'A' scratched on it, it's mine. I've lost it off my watch-chain."
"Voodoo, Inspector, also known as Obeah, a cult which has spread from the West Coast of Africa throughout the West Indies and to parts of the United States. The bat wing is said to be a sign used by these people." Inspector Aylesbury scratched his chin. "Now let me get this thing clear," said he: "Colonel Menendez believed that people called Voodoos wanted to kill him?
"Stuler, how much will you advance me," he asked, "on a shotgun worth one hundred crowns?" "A shotgun worth one hundred crowns? Ten." Johann made a negative gesture. "Fifty or none. You can sell it for seventy-five in the morning. So could I, only I want the money to-night." "If you want wine " began Stuler. "I want money." Stuler scratched his nose. "Bring the gun to me.
The letters were full of expressions that Anisim never made use of in conversation: "Dear papa and mamma, I send you a pound of flower tea for the satisfaction of your physical needs." At the bottom of every letter was scratched, as though with a broken pen: "Anisim Tsybukin," and again in the same excellent hand: "Agent."
As he stood on the farther side of the tree where the little ghost had faded from him, at his feet lay, open and conspicuous, a fresh, deep hole. He looked down absent-mindedly. Some animal a dog, a rabbit had scratched far into the earth.
Here and there we could distinguish a snatch of conversation, a word, a phrase, now and then even a whole sentence above the rest. There was a clink of glasses. I could hear the rattle of dice on a bare table, and an oath. A cork popped. Somebody scratched a match. We sat bewildered, looking at Kennedy for an explanation.
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