He steadied his steps with one great white hand upon his grandfather's Sunday staff, and his clear blue eyes were trembling with a sense of gratitude and a fear of tears.

And I stepped behind a red strawberry-tree, for my sense of respect for him almost made me sob.
Then Jowler thought it high time to appear upon the scene, and convince us that he was not a dead dog yet.

He had known tribulation, as his master had, and had found it a difficult thing to keep from the shadowy hunting ground of dogs who have lived a conscientious life.

I had wondered at first what his reason could have been for not coming forward, according to his custom, to meet that troop of robbers.

But his reason, alas! was too cogent to himself, though nobody else in that dreadful time could pay any attention to him.