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Updated: May 2, 2025
Frog agreed pleasantly. No matter what happened, he never lost his temper. But Mr. Crow was different. He was angry. "You've got me into a pretty fix!" said he. "And now you must get me out of it." "I suppose you want more buttons," Mr. Prog observed. "I noticed as you came in that you had lost every one." "No!" Mr. Crow told him. "What I want is to get out of this coat.
"By God, if I could only get that Ronny McKinnon under my bonny blue hanger," said Gilchrist, the ganger that had the soft side for Mirren Stuart. "One good prog wid pay for this night's daftness," growled his leader, and again came Gilchrist's voice "Was I tae ken McKinnon was ootside Finlay Stuart's and a dozen o' ye in the kitchen."
The doctor and guides will be back soon. I'm getting very hungry, I know, and if they don't come I vote we make an attack on the prog baskets without them." "Let us find Fleming and the baskets first," I answered; for my mind began to misgive me about finding him as easily as we had expected.
I steered towards her, and now, the breeze freshening, we rapidly neared each other. She stood on, and passing under our stern, kept alongside of us. "Hillo, D'Arcy, my boy, how did you get there?" hailed my uncle, as he recognised me at the helm. "Fell in with her, sir. Pray send some fresh hands, for we are sinking; and some prog, for we are starving," I shouted, in return.
"Fred," he said to me the day after I had got home, and after I had returned from a triumphant march through Brownstroke, to show myself off to my old comrades generally, and Cad Prog in particular "Fred," said my uncle, "I am going to send you to London." "To London!" cried I, not knowing exactly whether to be delighted, or astonished, or alarmed, or all three "to London." "Yes.
"We'll be up with the first stroke of dawn, nip down to the harbour, get on board a boat, and be off before any of them are stirring." "But, even if we manage to secure a boat," I said, "what about provisions, and where are we to sail for?" "Oh, never mind that," said Bill; "we can't be worse off than we are, and I'll slip out to-night, and lay in some prog in the town.
When in a campaign, a man ought to be able to stow prog for twenty-four hours about his person, and no one the wiser. A very good rule, I assure you, though it sometimes leads to awkward results. At Vimeira, I got into a sad scrape that way. Old Sir Harry, that commanded there, sent for the sick return. I was at dinner when the orderly came, so I packed up the eatables about me, and rode off.
I got your letter, and come over here straight to see that he's been tombed accordin' to his virtues; to lay out the dollars he left me on the people he had on his visitin' list; no loafers, no gophers, not one; but to them that stayed by him I stay, while prog and liquor last."
"Don't say you are hurt, sir!" whispered Peter. "You can go on, can't you? Oh, do say you can!" "Yes, yes," panted Archie confusedly; "I think I am all right." "Then here goes for it, sir. I don't feel a bit sure, but I am going to try as soon as I have fed him a bit more. Don't you bother about the prog. I am going to make him carry it as inside passengers.
Sorry I ever entered the cursed ship." How much of all this, thought I, is genuine feeling, how much genuine appetite? I was sorry for the poor fellow, however. "Rattlin, owing to one crooked thing and another, we have lately fared miserably. The ship has been a hell upon the waters. I am faint for the want of something to support me. Is that prog and that bottle of porter private property?"
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