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The Red Un, quite safe and audacious in his cork jacket, turned over on his back and kicked. "Gwan yerself, Methuselah!" he sang. They stole the old man's pipe and passed it from mouth to mouth; they engaged him in innocent converse while one of them pinched his bare old toe under water, crab-fashion.
"I can't say," she answered, with a sigh. "But you ought to wear long dresses; now yours are tucked, and could be let down." "And these red prunella boots they look like boiled crabs." I put them on, and walked round the room crab-fashion, till she laughed hysterically. "Miss Charlotte Alden wears French kid slippers every day, and I must wear mine."
"Lift the chain with your right hand," whispered Joshua, "I will hold our living buckler. We must ascend the cliff crab-fashion." His companion obeyed, and as they advanced within bow-shot of the enemy moving sometimes backward, sometimes sideways they held the Egyptian before them and with the ringing shout: "The son of Nun is returning to his father and to his people!"
It was after ten before Val came downstairs crab-fashion, wiping off each step behind him as he came with one of Ricky's three dust-cloths. He paused on the landing to pull back the tapestry curtain and open the windows above the alcove seat, letting in the freshness of the morning to rout some of the dank chill of the hall. Kneeling there, he watched Rupert come around the house.
Now, Jack, the under officers and many privates run pretty much the same way, but not quite as high. Bad luck to me, I was fifth corporal thin and am eighth now promoted crab-fashion. Fortune's wheel gives me many a turn, Jack! but always stops with me on the lower side." "I saw you on the upper side once," retorted Jack roguishly. "And whin? may I ask."
So saying, she retired backwards, crab-fashion, resisting all entreaties to resume her proper form and join in the festivities.
Across the yellow, ill-printed pages there runs, zig-zagging sideways and backwards crab-fashion on his crooked brown legs, one of those pigmy book-spiders, those ugly little bibliophiles that seem flatter even than the close-pressed pages that form their home.
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