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Updated: June 14, 2025
Business, with them, was a profession a finely graded and balanced thing, differing from Jo's clumsy, downhill style as completely as does the method of a great criminal detective differ from that of a village constable. They would listen, restively, and say, "Uh-uh," at intervals, and at the first chance they would sort of fade out of the room, with a meaning glance at their wives.
"Well, there was an order given in a white man's voice and the bugle called us off. Somebody had ventured to disobey instructions, and after that the fight was over; we got away as best we could. They rolled over us like a wave as we went downhill and there were not many of us when we reached the bottom.
Dale's remark evidently nettled Roy. He lowered the rifle. "Milt, it's me lookin' over this gun. How can you stand there an' tell me I'm goin' to shoot high? I had a dead bead on him." "Roy, you didn't allow for downhill... Hurry. He sees us now." Roy leveled the rifle and, taking aim as before, he fired. The buck stood perfectly motionless, as if he had indeed been stone.
"This arrangement about the schooner leaves us both captains, and prevents anything like your downhill work, which is always unpleasant business. Captain Marble and Captain Wallingford sound well; and I hope they may long sail in company. But natur' or art never meant me for a captain." "Well, admitting this, where there are two captains, one must outrank the other, and the senior commands.
Suddenly Barry found himself bending forward, eyes still on the road in spite of his half-turned head, ears straining to catch the slightest variation of the motor. It seemed to be straining, yet the long, suddenly straight stretch of road ahead of him seemed perfectly level; downhill if anything. More and more labored became the engine.
Monnie called to Menie. Menie straightened himself out at the bottom of the slope, picked himself up and ran back to her. "What shall we play?" said Monnie. "Let's get Koko, and go to the Big Rock and slide downhill," said Menie. "All right," said Monnie. "You run and get your sled." Menie had a little sled which his father had made for him out of driftwood. No other boy in the village had one.
"Look, Mirabell!" cried Arnold, pointing to the Lamb as she went down the ironing board. "Didn't I tell you she could coast without any snow?" "Yes, you did, and she really is doing it!" laughed the little girl, clapping her hands. "Oh, isn't it nice? I never thought a Lamb could coast downhill!" "I never did, either," said the woolly Lamb to herself.
We were very weary, and invigorated by nothing but the light, but, having that at least to strengthen us, we made at once for the main range, knowing very well that, once we were over it, it would be downhill all the way, and seeing upon our maps that there were houses and living men high in the further Andorran valley, which was not deserted like this vale of the Aston, but inhabited: full, that is, of Catalans, who would soon make us forget the inhuman loneliness of the heights, for by this time we were both convinced, though still neither of us said it to the other, that there was an evil brooding over all this place.
He cleared the sheet, and was free to return, slightly downhill now, along the halyards to the mast. But he had lost his nerve. Unsafe as was his present position, he was loath to forsake it for the more unsafe position on the halyards. He looked along the airy path he must traverse, and then down to the deck. His eyes were wide and staring, and he was trembling violently.
In fact, he goes like lightning, always just ahead of the breaker, and apparently downhill, propelled by the vehement impulse of the roaring wave behind him, yet seeming to have a speed and motion of his own.
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