Every time I have snored, I've frozen something.

When a man gets the cold into him to that extent that he ices his own bed, it can't last much longer.

Never mind! _I_ don't grumble." Crayford tapped the saucepan of bones impatiently.

John Want lowered himself to the floor--grumbling all the way--by a rope attached to the rafters at his bed head.

Instead of approaching his superior officer and his saucepan, he hobbled, shivering, to the fire-place, and held his chin as close as he possibly could over the fire.