Only some chips that I'm saving till mother has her nap out.
Where we stand now the ground was covered with brush and chips, half hidden by snow.
My aunt picked up the chips and dumped them into the wood-box.
"That's quite a stack of chips you're carrying," Sperry observed.
You may believe that all this was very terrible to Chips; but even all this was not the worst.
There was once a shipwright, and he wrought in a Government Yard, and his name was Chips.
He brought in the result of his handiwork, as smiling as a basket of chips.
White Fang, sliding by in quest of meat, stopped and began to eat the chips.
A boy was chopping frozen moose-meat with an axe, and the chips were flying in the snow.
At such times we made "the Chips" stay over on their side of the yard.