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"All ye've got ter do air ter keep in tech with me so any time I needs ye I kin git ye. I hain't plum made up my mind yit." The other shadowy and hunched figure growled unpleasantly, then bit from a tobacco twist and spat before he answered. "I hain't got no hankerin' fer no more laywayin's," he objected. "Ef ye resolves that he needs killin', why don't ye do hit yoreself?
It is not hard to remember that first impression of Michael Strange. He was a huge man, gaunt and haggard, moulded with the hunched shoulders and heavy arms of a gorilla. His face seemed to be unconsciously twisted into a snarl. His greeting, which came only after he had stared at us intently, for nearly a minute, was curt and rasping. "Well, gentlemen? What is it?" "I should like a word with Dr.
Bobby, hunched alongside in loyal imitation of his companion's attitude, glowed through and through. "My! I'm glad you won!" he repeated again and again. Kincaid looked straight ahead of him, his gray eyes pensive, the short pipe shifted to the corner of his mouth. Finally he glanced down amusedly at his ecstatic companion. "You see, Bobby?" he said, " until the last shot is fired."
I hunched Tom, and whispers: "You going, right here in the daybreak? THAT warn't the plan." "No, it warn't; but it's the plan NOW." So, drat him, we went along, but I didn't like it much. When we got in we couldn't hardly see anything, it was so dark; but Jim was there, sure enough, and could see us; and he sings out: "Why, HUCK! En good LAN'! ain' dat Misto Tom?"
After they had passed the last station before reaching Edgham he looked wearily away from the window, and recognized, stupidly, Maria's father in a seat in the forward part of the car. Harry was sitting as dejectedly hunched upon himself as was the boy.
Just see if you can't get some of your natural meanness out of you while looking at the beauties of nature along the route." The boy hunched up his shoulders contemptuously without saying a word in reply, while the farmer selected a seat across the aisle and directly in front of Frank. He occupied himself looking over a weekly farm paper.
He was a little hunched man, twisted and bent double with rheumatic gout, the fruit of seventy years of field work. His small face was almost lost, dog-like, under shaggy hair and overgrown eyebrows, both snow-white. He had a look of irritable eagerness, seldom, however, expressed in words.
"I don't know," answered Lady Locke, looking at the hunched white figure facing her, and at the little shrewd eyes peering from beneath the shade of the big and aggressively garden hat. "What system do you mean?" "The English governess system; simple clothes, no friends, no society, no money, no late dinner, supper at nine, all the talents, and bed at ten whether you are inclined to sleep or not.
He suddenly ground his heel, and there was distemper in face and voice; his shoulders hunched; his hands were thrust down in his pockets. He wheeled on her. "Where's your other boy? Where's Carnac?" The woman pointed to the lawn. "He's catching a bit of the city from the hill just beyond the pear-tree." "Painting, eh? I heard he was here. I want to talk to him."
He brought the rope forward over the cloaked head and drew the noose in tautly, with the knot adjusted to fit snugly just under the left ear, so that the hood took on the semblance of a well-filled, inverted bag with its puckered end fluting out in the effect of a dark ruff upon the hunched shoulders of its wearer.
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