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Some two dozen have been collected for the occasion, most of them belonging to Maoris; of no particular breed, but all large and heavy, strong-jawed and supple-limbed animals, wolfish-looking fierce creatures, but all more or less trained to the work before them. Good pig-dogs are not easily met with, and in the bush they are esteemed a prize.
Being a strong boy, the mighty tug he gave was productive of results. Phil landed on his back on the floor, with a resounding thump and a jolt that made him see stars. "Teddy Tucker, look out; I'm coming!" "You had better look out; I'm waiting." The two supple-limbed youngsters met in the middle of the cabin floor and went down together.
Drusus could hardly recognize in the supple-limbed, fair-complexioned, vivacious lad before him, the wretched creature whom Alfidius had driven through the streets. Agias's message was short, but quite long enough to make Drusus's pale cheeks flush with new life, his sunken eyes rekindle, and his languor vanish into energy.
Supple-limbed Otto was first; he seized the child and bore her off to the boat. Another terrible explosion occurred just then. Ashes and masses of rock began to rain around them. A falling stone struck Pauline's head, and she fell. The doctor, who held her hand, seized her in his arms and bore her away. A few minutes more and they were all safe on board again.
On the first afternoon of Dale's absence I paid her my promised visit. It was a dull day, and the room, lit chiefly by the firelight, happily did not reveal its nerve-racking tastelessness. Lola Brandt, supple-limbed and lazy-voiced, talked to me from the cushioned depths of her chair. We lightly touched on Dale's trip to Berlin. She would miss him terribly.
You watch the grizzly old man at the helm carrying his craft with strange skill through the turmoil of waters, and the boy, supple-limbed, yet weather-worn already, and with steady eyes that look through the blast, you see him understanding commandments from the jerk of his father’s white eyebrow, now belaying and now letting go, now scrunching himself down into mere ballast, or baling out death with a pipkin.
There was Pattes-du-Tigre, a small, wiry, supple-limbed fire-eater, with a skin like a coal and eyes that sparkled like the live coal's flame; a veteran of the Joyeux; who could discipline his roughs as a sheepdog his lambs, and who had one curt martial law for his detachment; brief as Draco's, and trimmed to suit either an attack on the enemy or the chastisement of a mutineer, lying in one single word "Fire."
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