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"A bad conscience shakes the hand," remarked Mignonnet sententiously. "In a few days from now," resumed Philippe, "you and the Rabouilleuse will be living together as sweet as honey, that is, after she gets through mourning. At first she'll twist like a worm, and yelp, and weep; but never mind, let the water run!"
It is enough that my cherished dreams of Venice have been blighted forever as to the romantic gondola and the gorgeous gondolier; this system of destruction shall go no farther; I will accept the hearse, under protest, and you may fly your flag of truce in peace, but here I register a dark and bloody oath that you shan't sing. Another yelp, and overboard you go."
It carried as far as the yelp of a dog; when Burr first heard it he stopped short, and looked irresolutely at the thicket beside the road. He had a half-impulse to slink in there among the snowy bushes and hide until his cousin passed by. Then he shook his head angrily and kept on.
Join to this sensation that from the vague swarming sound in African forests, the swishing of branches, the velvety-pads of roving creatures, the jackal's shrill yelp, and up in the sky, two or three hundred feet aloft, vast flocks of cranes passing on with screams like poor little children having their weasands slit. You will own that there were grounds for a man being moved.
The pale face showed its pain, but was still and silent. Rab's soul was working within him; he saw that something strange was going on blood flowing from his mistress, and she suffering; his ragged ear was up, and importunate; he growled and gave now and then a sharp impatient yelp; he would have liked to have done something to that man.
The struggling of a pigeon, or the yelp of a dog, seemed to make him sick, and a hundred times he laid down his scalpel as if unable to proceed. He was like a neophyte, and a prey to the sentimental horrors of which, up to this time, his absorbed intellect had been quite unconscious. I trembled.
With one explosive yelp he hurtled across the aisles, landed upon Martha Ellen Robertson's seat, slid half its slippery length, righted himself, and standing upon his hind legs, with his front paws upon the back of the seat, he burst into a storm of wild barking. Of course the sparrow was by this time away down near Lake Simcoe, but Trip still continued his uproar.
The stars shone brightly out overhead, enabling us to see a considerable way from our camp, but as I walked up and down during my watch, I could discern no objects besides our three horses, though I continually cast my eyes round the horizon. I occasionally heard the distant yelp of a pack of coyotes, though they were too far off to be perceived and did not come near enough otherwise to annoy us.
At last it ran up the side of a large empty barrel and went over the edge in a second. Quick as thought Jock sprang after it; then came a terrific scrambling and scratching, a vicious scream from the rat, a yelp of pain from Jock, and, last, a moment's silence before the scrambling was renewed.
It ended in the sharp, quick yelp of a wolf on the trail, and an instant later was taken up by others, until the pack was once more in full cry. Almost simultaneously a figure darted out upon the ice from the edge of the forest. A dozen paces and it paused and turned back toward the black wall of spruce. "Are you coming, Wabi?" A voice answered from the woods. "Yes. Hurry up run!"
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