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Why, songs, Master Bruin; and you, who are fond of music, might make mints of money by selling 'em, if you'd only choose to do it. Ah, Master Flip! and in what way? Flip.
People become reminiscent and even sentimental in front of it. They used to become something else in those good old days when it was thought best to heat the poker red hot before plunging it into the mugs of flip.
The cripple disappeared down the road, and Madison, with a sort of speculative flip to the ash of his cigar, resumed his way. Just across the bridge he found the wagon track, and turned into it. It ran through a thick wood of fir and spruce, and here, apart from now being able to see but little before him he had elected to "steal" away in the darkness after supper he found the going far from good.
The worn features at breakfast were really a dismal sight." The writer has no doubt, from personal and observed experience, that sometimes transfer is used, but is doubtful to what extent. Boxes on the ear, slaps on the back, nay a flip as with a towel on the bare back, are felt, the last even by a clothed person.
Hurrying the two Englishmen to another part of the fort, M. Groseillers bade me run for Radisson. I wish that you could have seen the triumphant glint laughing in Pierre Radisson's eyes when I told him. "Fate deals the cards! 'Tis we must play them! This time the jade hath trumped her partner's ace! Ha, ha, Ramsay! We could 'a' captured both father and son with a flip o' the finger!
Tell it not in modern Gath that even the Dominie spiced his half-mug of flip with an anecdote, and that every man and woman took cider as well as coffee. How can I describe the events and vicissitudes that befell us during this journey of three days and a half to New York?
"Look," said Flip, pointing to a faint deflection of their path, which seemed, however, to lose itself in the underbrush a dozen yards away, "ther's your trail. It gets plainer and broader the further you get on, but you must use your eyes here, and get to know it well afore you get into the fog. Good-by." "Good-by." Lance took her hand and drew her beside him.
He saw the gun woman crouch and stoop, saw her hands flash in Jim Last's famous backhand flip, saw the red flame spurt from her hips, and the Pomo half-breed flung up his hands and fell in a heap, his face in the grass. He did not move. Only a long ripple passed over his body. He was still as the ageless rocks, as much a part of eternity. For a moment Billy stood, the gun hanging in his hand.
"I'll lick you, Flip," said Bliss, only in a more good-humoured tone than usual, as he hit at him. "I think I've heard that observation before," said Henderson, dodging away. "Ah, Walter, how do you do, my dear old fellow? I hope you're sitting on the throne of health, and reclining under the canopy of a well-organised brain." "More than you are, Flip," said Walter laughing.
"Yes, but I might have been tracked to this cabin. And look here, Flip," he said, suddenly straightening himself, and lifting the girl's face to a level with his own, "I don't want you to lie any more for me. It ain't right." "All right. Ye needn't go to the pit, then, and I won't come." "Flip!" "And here's Dad coming. Quick!" Lance chose to put his own interpretation on this last adjuration.
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