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Updated: May 1, 2025
He would have time if he rode hard. With head bowed, shoulders hunched, he bent over the gelding. He had no recollection of that ride. But the long, weary journey North was one he had full recollection of. He was forced to remain partially inactive, though he paced from smoking to observation-car time and time again. He could not remain still. The first great fury of the storm had passed.
There was, however, a huge chest against the wall near the window, and Shangois sat down on this, with his legs hunched up to his chin, looking at Ferrol with steady, inquisitive eyes. Ferrol laughed outright. A grotesque thought occurred to him.
Once more I rose to my hands and knees, half-blinded by the blood that started afresh from my wound, and crawled over to where the carpenter lay on the deck, in what must have been a most uncomfortable attitude, hunched up against the port bulwarks, with his wrists lashed tightly together behind his back and his heels triced up to them, so that it was absolutely impossible for him to move or help himself in the slightest degree.
"You are so very calm that it is absolutely soothing and restful to the nerves to observe you!" Harry stopped short before Frank, thrust his hands deep into his pockets, hunched his shoulders, thrust his head forward, and glared fiercely into Merriwell's face. "There are times when it positively is a crime not to swear," he hoarsely said. "It seems to me that this is one of the times.
His poor deformed body was like that of Punchinello, a part for which he was famous in the theatres protuberant before, hunched up between his shoulders behind, and set upon little writhen fleshless legs like wooden spigots. In manner he was excessively punctilious, grave, collected, oracularly sententious. I know that he was exquisitely sensitive to ridicule and remorseless in punishing it.
For, whereas the girls should have showered their attentions upon them, the boys, they insisted upon talking about nothing but Gold Run Ranch, which was the name of the property left to Mrs. Nelson by her great uncle. "You aren't very complimentary to us," Frank grumbled, as he hunched himself over the wheel of Mollie's car.
He would sit with his shoulders hunched up and his pen resting on the paper, staring at a letter until he was nearly mesmerized, and then come to himself with a sense of fear, which started him working like a madman, so that he might not be behind with his business. The day seemed to be so long. It rolled on rusty hinges that could scarcely move.
On the "zinc," side by side, like birds on a rail, sat the two muleteers. In each big, sunburnt fist was an empty glass; their spurred feet dangled; they leaned forward where they sat, hunched up over their knees, heads slightly turned, as though intently listening. A haze of cigarette smoke dimmed the candle flame. The drone of an aëroplane high in the midnight sky came to them at intervals.
He might go down and blotch the brands so that they would not read anything at all. He had thought of that before and decided against it. That would put those three on their guard and would probably not benefit him in the long run. They could work the brands on other cattle. He hunched forward in the saddle and let Rattler choose his own trail up the hill.
He had screwed himself into a corner, whence he could watch through his long glasses that gay-coloured, shifting wheel at the end of the mile and more of turf. At this moment, so pregnant with the future, he could not bear the company of his fellows. "They're off!" He looked no longer, but hunched his shoulders, holding his elbows stiff, that none might see what he was feeling.
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