Soon they became musical, striking up one of the weird long-drawn-out chants so popular with the shanty boy.

Thorpe shrewdly guessed his companion to be a man of weight, and did not hesitate to ascribe his immunity from annoyance to the other's presence.
"It's a bad thing," said the walking-boss, "I used to be at it myself, and I know.

When I wanted whisky, I needed it worse than a scalded pup does a snow bank.

The first year I had a hundred and fifty dollars, and I blew her all in six days.

Next year I had a little more, but she lasted me three weeks.