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Updated: May 19, 2025
Adders Snakes s-s s-s-s!" There was a kicking, struggling mass of blue backs and yellow legs before him, from out of which came "Yah! Down with the Eagles! Cowards! Kites! Cockneys!" There were plenty of boys, men, women with children in their arms hallooing on, "Well done, Eagle!" "Go it, Dragon!" The word Dragon filled the quiet Ambrose with hot impulse to defend his brother.
He felt that swift "s-s-s" dart snake-like through him, repeated again and then again, with augmented intensity. He looked all around, then he looked toward the upper part of the house, and he fancied that in one of the windows he could distinguish an object like a white bird flapping its wings.
But the little kitten woke up in terrible alarm to see that hideous monster so near him, and prepared to sell his life dearly. He bristled up his ridiculous little tail, opened his absurd, little pink mouth in a soft, baby s-s-s-, and struck savagely at old Shep's good-natured face with a soft little paw. Betsy felt her heart overflow with amusement and pride in the intrepid little morsel.
She collapsed to the floor at sight of me, and then began to dance away in the opposite direction with stiff leaps, as a lamb does in spring-time. I saw she was in pain or trouble, needing a servant, and made haste to reach her; when she hid her face on both arms against the wall. "Go off!" she hissed. " S-s-s! Go off! I haven't anything on! Don't go off!
An' the smell like roast apples, what I noticed before, is stronger than ever." "'Ave you a match about you?" asked the stoker eagerly. "One," said the engineer, delicately withdrawing a solitary "kindler" from the bottom of his waistcoat pocket. The stoker received the match, and struck it on his trousers. A blue glimmer resulted, a faint s-s-s! followed, and the match went out.
"Oh, they," she returned with kindly contempt. "I'm glad I didn't see them. They're nice boys enough, but father, I don't believe that either one of them will ever become clever business men!" "No?" he replied, highly amused. "Well, I don't think they will either. Business is a shade too big a game for them. But where have you been?" "Out on business with S-s-s with Mr.
Then the scouts of Temple Camp showed that their wonted disregard of Skinny was only because they did not understand him, queer little imp that he was. For cheer after cheer arose as he stood there in a kind of bewilderment of joy. "Hurrah, for the star tracker!" "Three cheers for the sleuth of the forest!" "No more tenderfoot!" "Hurrah for S-S-S!" Which meant Skinny, second-class scout.
He listened for a few moments; the house was perfectly quiet; he extinguished his rushlight, and opened his bedroom door. The staircase was so dark that it was impossible to see anything. ‘S-s-s!’ whispered the mischief-maker, making a noise like the first indication a catherine-wheel gives of the probability of its going off. ‘Hush!’ whispered somebody else. ‘Is that you, Mrs. Tibbs?’
"S-s-s!" warned the waitress, straightening herself up as the manager appeared. They were in a fashionable Sydney restaurant, on George-street, a large, painted, gilded, veneered, electro-plated place, full of mirrors and gas-fittings and white-clothed tables.
How'd they look here, trying to serve dinner with a lot of green hands?" argued Nellie. "Besides, if you had a union, you could get a lot without striking at all. They know now you can't strike, so they do just exactly as they like." "They'd do what they " began the waitress. Then she broke off with another "s-s-s" as the manager crossed the room again.
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