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I reckon they must have called it Giant's Cave 'cause it's so big, an' not 'cause any giant man lived there." "Let's go in," said the girl again. "I'd like to 'splore it." "All right," replied the sailor. "It'll be cooler in there than out here in the sun. We won't go very far, for when the tide turns we mightn't get out again." He picked up the oars and rowed slowly toward the cave.
If we had not the recreation now and then of a bit splore with the sword, we should be lazily rotting to decay. The world's well divided after all, and the happiness as well as the dule of it.
Peggy noticed a bird's nest in a more exposed location than the little builder would have chosen elsewhere, she was sure, and she thought of the deductions Jerry would have drawn from this fact, and smiled while she sighed. Poor Jerry! She must take him in hand, and settle this absurd misunderstanding. "Aunt Peggy," piped Dorothy, trotting at her heels, "let's not 'splore any longer.
"What needs I care for the Mucklestane-Moor ony mair than ye do yoursell, Earnscliff?" said Hobbie, something offended; "to be sure, they do say there's a sort o' worricows and lang-nebbit things about the land, but what need I care for them? I hae a good conscience, and little to answer for, unless it be about a rant amang the lasses, or a splore at a fair, and that's no muckle to speak of.
The farm is unchanged in size from that time, and still in the unbroken line of the ready and victorious thrasher. Braehead is held on the condition of the possessor being ready to present the King with a ewer and basin to wash his hands, Jock having done this for his unknown king after the splore; and when George the Fourth came to Edinburgh, this ceremony was performed in silver at Holyrood.
But then came the splore about the surrendering your papers and we hae now gude evidence, that, sae soon as he was compelled to yield them up, he rade post to Stirling, and tauld the Government all and mair than all, that was gaun doucely on amang us hill-folk; and, doubtless, that was the way that the country was laid to take his Excellency and the leddy, and to make sic an unexpected raid on me.
So he behoved to have a splore, as they called it: he entertained all his friends at a hotel to a supper, where they had a night of it, drinking, and singing, and laughing, to bid him farewell. When he came back it was grey daylight, and I was up to my work; and when he went past me, he saw me crying, as he thought, for grief at the thought of his going away.
And now I think I'll pick a dinner-pail, to have when I get hungry again, and then we'll start out and 'splore the country, and see where we are." "Haven't you any idea what country this is?" inquired Billina. "None at all. But listen: I'm quite sure it's a fairy country, or such things as lunch-boxes and dinner-pails wouldn't be growing upon trees.
The old song of the Borderers was ringing in his ears: 'Sweet is the sound o' the driven steers And sweet the gleam o' the moonlit spears, When the red cock crows o'er byre and store And the Borderer rides on his foraying splore. He looked from the tail of his eye upon 'Meg wi' the muckle mouth. No beauty certainly, but 'twas fighting he craved, not women.
I snarled; "wha'gar ye mak' sic' a splore? Hoo daur ye tak' on ye till misca' a body sae sair's ye dae, ye bletherin' coof? Hae ye gat oot the wrang side yir bed the morn?-ir d'ye tak' me fir a rief-randy? ir wha' the de'il fashes ye the noo? Ye ken, A was compit doon ayont the boondary, an' A thocht A wad dauner owre an' hae a wee bit crack wi' ye the nicht.
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