It was the wound in his leg that seemed to bother him, and it was all of a week before he got back again to his old spryness.
Marrow-Bone was the only old member in the horde.

Sometimes, on looking back upon him, when the vision of him is most clear, I note a striking resemblance between him and the father of my father's gardener.

The gardener's father was very old, very wrinkled and withered; and for all the world, when he peered through his tiny, bleary eyes and mumbled with his toothless gums, he looked and acted like old Marrow-Bone.

This resemblance, as a child, used to frighten me.

I always ran when I saw the old man tottering along on his two canes.