"Bet you can't." The boy lunged, straight, true, gracefully, straightening all his limbs except his right leg, rigidly, strongly, and the "sword" bent upward from the spot on which the man's finger had just rested.
"Gad! Who _has_ taught you to lunge?
I shall have a bruise there, and perhaps--live.

Who's behind all this, young fella?
Who taught you to stand so, and to lunge?
Ochterlonie Sahib or Daddy ?" "Nobody.

What is 'lunge'?
Will you buy me a little baby-camel to play with and teach tricks?
Perhaps it would sit up and beg.

Do camelth lay eggth?
Chucko does.

Millions and lakhs.