Word: clumpingly
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Past students and teachers who had excitedly poured from their classrooms bounded John P. Weller. Reaching the campus, he plunged into a clump of bushes, fired two more shots. His protruding legs stiffened starkly. When physicians arrived, they treated Dr. Kurz for a wrist wound, found Instructor Weller dead with a bullet in his heart...
...Seven caddies returned the balls, patted down little sand tees, scurried down the course as the man kept poling out drives like an automaton. Suddenly from another part of the fairway came a shrill cry of warning. Without hesitation the man dropped his club, scampered into a clump of nearby bushes. Few minutes later there came another cry. The man returned, resumed his work...
...prevent its blood from coagulating. When the animal's breathing and circulation had stopped, a chiropractor pronounced it "dead." Then Dr. Willard popped Jekal into an icebox where the temperature was kept at - 30° C. ( - 22° F.). Five days later he removed the small, rigid, grey clump of fur & flesh from the refrigerator, invited newshawks to watch the proceedings, began to thaw it slowly in a chamber equipped with heating coils and a fan. When the body was warm and pliant, Dr. Willard gave the monkey a blood transfusion, then injected adrenalin chloride solution into the belly...
...impeccable full dress exuding Eau de Cologne. An artist, as are all great executioners, Gröber keeps his blade on ice until the last second, figures that blood has a tendency to congeal on an iced blade and hence will not spout on his boiled shirt. Swish-clump! Swish-clump!-two heads rolled in the sand. One of them, declared Nazis with more exuberance than exactitude, was "the head of the first Jew ever decapitated in German history." Otherwise insignificant, Jew Solly Epstein and equally inconsequent Gentile Hans Zeigler were sentenced to death for the Nazi crime of "watching...
...green. And I feel the cold shivers on my spine when I realize that I stepped within a foot of one of them, one that did not strike and did not rattle, but like a silent thing uncoiled at my very feet and crawled toward a hole in a clump of greasewood. I shot it three times and killed it. It had thirteen rattles on its stubby tail. I sweat now to think of that, how I started to brush between two clumps of bushes and saw it at my very feet, how I leaped like a man shot, backward...