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And how in the name of the Seven Seas did you ever get in such a scrape, Ned Nestor?" The last words were spoken very softly, but before that Ned had recognized the man as one he had known and liked on the water front in New York. "You're in a bad box," Ben went on, "for that slob means business." "There's just one chance for us," Ned whispered.
I mind Charley well as a cute little yellow-haired divil, always laughing, always in mischief, and me chasin' after him a big slob of a boy. I used to carry him up an' down the tenement stairs. I learned him to skate and now here he is drinkin' himself puffy, whilst I am an old broken-down hack at forty-five." He looked up at her with a sheen of tears in his eyes.
Much of the rich flat land which lies along the railway from Wexford to Rosslare Harbour was reclaimed by this Redmond's enterprise from tidal slob. On his death in 1872 the seat passed to his nephew William Archer Redmond, whose two sons were John and William Redmond, with whom this book deals.
So the work is carried on, like modern railway tunnelling, from both ends simultaneously, and when head and tail of the saurian meet the first 1,500 acres will be reclaimed. The "slob" will be easy to drain, and it is tolerably certain that within twelve months the first instalment will be ready for cropping.
To those who would have persuaded him to linger for a fair wind he had cheerfully countered that the schooner had "two sides," meaning that she could hold her own in adversity, and could claw well to windward; besides, "'t will help to hold the Northern slob back" that threatening spectre of our winters. When darkness fell, however, very little progress had been made.
The son dressed himself in all the clothes of the other three, whose bodies he kept in the boat. He ate the flesh of an old harp seal they had caught in their net. On the third day by wonderful luck he gaffed an old seal in the slob ice. This he hauled in and drank the warm blood.
Pink Slob got away in the lead but he made the mistake of walking fast instead of running, with the result that when the other horses were back in the stable Pinkie was still giving a heel and toe exhibition around near third base. It wasn't my day, so I squeezed into the thirst parlor and bathed my injured feelings with sarsaparilla. Just before the last race I ran across Bunch.
There may have been a shark who once made a meal off a sailor, but let you or me drop over the side, and if there's one anywhere near, he wouldn't stop racing till he was a mile away, and if any harmless slob of a whale ever killed a sailor, be sure he did it through fright. But that's no matter.
Well, de wind was west-nor'-west, an' we put de studdin'-sils onto her, an' away we went flamin' mad through der slob. "Well, de ice giv us many a heavy thump dat night, but de ould Truelove was well fastened, an' at daylight next mornin', we heard de watch cry, 'Swiles! Swiles!
When they entered, Shapolnik, the butterfly of fashion, had once more assumed the chrysalis of his working clothes. "How do you do, Mister Potash?" he cried, all in one breath. "Excuse me; I am looking like a slob. We are busy like dawgs here. Katzberg!" he yelled; "Kimmen Sie hieran."
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