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Updated: June 13, 2025
The very bairns on the loan, instead of their wonted play, gaed linking and louping in the steps of Mr Macskipnish, who was, to be sure, a great curiosity, with long spindle legs, his breast shot out like a duck's, and his head powdered and frizzled up like a tappit-hen.
Little Jon, who happened to have painted his naked self bright blue and yellow in stripes out of his father's water-colour box, and put some duck's feathers in his hair, saw them coming, and ambushed himself among the willows.
So they made a wretched meal off a little dried meat and some raw duck's eggs. It was fortunate that his caution prevailed, since, as the twilight was dying into dark, they heard the stroke of paddles and made out the shapes of canoes passing them.
As it is, I'll just tell you what happened and see if you think I was to blame, or whether there's likely to be any bother. At that change my look slid off the self-conceited face, like rain off a particularly slippery duck's back.
But one can get used to anything. Soon their nasty remarks and all the wrongs done her by these two men slid off her smooth skin like water off a duck's back. It was even easier to have them angry, because when they were in good moods they bothered her too much, never giving her time to get a bonnet ironed. Yes, Coupeau and Lantier were wearing her out.
Rolling and wallowing in the angry sea, which threatened every moment to swallow it up, the boat still floated to the astonishment of all, and Skipper Zeb and Toby, with feverish zeal shipping a fresh oar, began sculling toward the sheltered and calm waters under the lee of the Duck's Head.
Two duck's feathers, which the fluttering ducks had lost, were rocking to and fro: suddenly they flew forwards as if the wind were coming, but it did not come: they were, therefore, obliged to remain where they were, and the water grew quiet and smooth again, and again the roses reflected themselves they were so beautiful, but that they did not know, for nobody had told them.
Oh, wasn't he a tricky old rooster, though, eh? So Lulu and Jimmie got some bits of cloth, and, with long pieces of ribbon grass, they bound the cloth on the rooster's claws so his feet looked something like a duck's. "Now come on and we'll have a swimming race," suggested Jimmie. "Walk right down into the water as we do. It won't hurt you the least bit, Mr. Doodle." "Pooh!
"Not a bit," said Frank. "This arrangement is only for to-night. When we get up in the morning, we shall find the boats all out in the river." This immediately reassured Harry; and, after watching the Sampson until she disappeared in Duck's Creek, he led the way to the house.
Dan had wisely taken the precaution of having the cork drawn from the bottle when he bought it, replacing it so that it could be easily extracted when required, and Vincent acknowledged that the spirit was a not unwelcome addition to the meal. When morning broke they had reached Duck's River, a broad stream crossing the road.
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