Word: thud
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...pully, every rope has its somebody tugging and pulling with might and main. Neither has the Harvidian, whom a few moments ago we saw on the streets the ideal Adonis, that dignified appearance as he scampers about in his semi-nude, airy costume. Down in the basement the dull thud of falling tenpins is heard, and in the 'cage' prospective pitchers and catchers are preparing for the base-ball season. Shut up in a room with glass doors, into which eager eyes peer, the 'Varsity' crew, bare to the waist, with muscles standing out like whip-cords, bends...
...cleft the earth to have plunged them both therein. My indignation breathed new energy into my wearied frame. A reckless, frenzy seized me. In rapid alternation my feet pressed the flying treadles. I leaned far forward, and rode at fearless speed. Great beads of perspiration fell with a dull thud to the floor. The air grew hot from the friction of my frightful velocity. With this terrible, ever-increasing momentum, something must happen. What that something would probably be became plainer every moment. The last of the line of iron posts stood exactly in front of the staring, awestruck couple...
CHUM said, "Brace up, take some beer, do you good, my old fel -" He fell with a heavy thud, the boot-jack did its work. Wearily casting myself upon the ottoman after this effective display of energy, I seized my throbbing brow with both hands and exclaimed, "Oh, what a day we've had! Chum, slowly coming to, gathers his fractured members from debris of boot jack, murmurs incoherently, "Kiss me, mother, ere I die." "Get up, you drivelling idiot," I muttered, "and for the love of heaven collect me a bottle of seltzer." Chum exits, muttering something about...
This was too much, and I departed. The first thing I met was the outside door: it was a Grays door. I had a spite against that door, and I plunged into it. As I did so, there was a dull thud on the steps below, and a paper fluttered into my hands. I cannot be responsible for its contents. It is a specimen of a too familiar type...
...robust natures require the exhilaration of the sharp gallop through the crisp, invigorating air; while to some the sweet-scented woods are a delight, where the whirr of the partridge or the soft whistling of the quail, followed by the quick crack of the fowling-piece and the dead thud of the victim, announce the unerring aim of the sportsman and the plumpness of the game...