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Updated: May 3, 2025
While I did so, Neche mouched about among them with canine inquisitiveness. Suddenly he became agitated, and showed signs of having hit upon a hot scent. I watched him curiously. He ran up a path and then paused at one of the stone-marked graves. Here he began to tear wildly at the edge of it. I followed him up and saw that he had dug a hole below the stone.
Say, what boys you got out there?" she inquired as the man slipped out of the saddle and began to unfasten the cinchas. "Why, just the same four damn fools, an' Sikkem." "And they're following up the trail?" "Sure." The man flung off the saddle and his horse mouched away. "Psha!" he cried, turning his fierce eyes upon Nan. "What's the use anyway?" His gesture was one of helpless disgust.
We mouched as far as Boulogne, where Baron James Rothschild has a charming place called Bagatelle, which the Prince wanted very much to see.
We got three pairs of the uncle's, and one that had belonged to the housekeeper's grandfather, but nine pairs were needed, because Albert-next-door mouched in one half-holiday and wanted to join, and said if we'd let him he'd write a paper on the Constitutions of Clarendon, and we thought he couldn't do it, so we let him. And then, after all, he did.
Ah, well! I am no Browning Junior, and Sherwood's name is not Sherwood. A while ago I took a holiday; mouched, played truant from my road. Jem the waggoner hailed me as he passed he was going to the mill would I ride with him and come back atop of the full sacks?
It led through the residential district of Kensingtowe, past a fashionable church, and down a hill. Dear old Beaten Track! How often have I mouched over it, alone and dreamy, adjusting my steps to the cracks between its pavement-flags! How often have I sauntered along it, arm in arm with one of my friends, talking those great plans which have come to nothing!
Elias Peters rolled slowly out of the saddle and reached the ground with a heavy flop. Then, while its recent burden gathered himself up, quite unhurt and smiling amiably in relief, the horse contentedly mouched off toward a patch of inviting grass. "Guess I'm kind o' late, Mr. McFarlane," Elias apologized. "An' it seems I've bust up your fire-bucket some," he added ruefully.
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