Success tended to make the unorthodox acceptable

Gundar seemed to come to a decision. "Well, as my old mam used to say, if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck and walks like a duck, it's probably a duck." "Very wise," Halt said. "And what exactly do your mother's words of wisdom have to do with this situation?" Gundar shrugged. "It looks like a channel. It's the right place for a channel. If I were digging one, this is where I'd dig a channel. So. . ." "So it's probably the channel?" Selethen said. Gundar grinned at him. "Either that or it's a duck.

People will think what they want to," he said quietly. Never take too much notice of it.

Which leaves us to the question, what is he up to?" Evanlyn said. Will shrugged. "I suppose we'll find out soon enough," he said, and urged Tug forward to take up the point position once more. They found out the following evening.

Svengal lay groaning on the turf. His thighs were sheer agony. His buttocks ached. His calf muscles were on fire. Now, afterhe had tumbled off the small pony he was riding and thudded heavily to the turf on the point of his shoulder, the shoulder would hurt too. He concentrated on trying to find one part of his body that wasn't a giant source of pain and failed miserably. He opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the face of the elderly pony that he had been riding peered down at him. Now what made you do a strange thing like that? The creature seemed to be asking.

Ow!" said Horace as the Ranger's fingers probed and poked around the bruise. Did that hurt?" Halt asked, and Horace looked at him with exasperation. Of course it did," he said sharply. "That's why I said 'ow!

You've always said I should have an inquiring mind," she said. "I have. But not an interrupting one.