rock pile

Chub tumbled off the rock pile, sat on the ground at the foot of it, and covered his face with his hands.

Matt was on his feet in a jiffy, and whirled just in time to see Chub take a header from the rock pile.

Before he could use it, Jacks had scrambled down from the rock pile and caught his wrist.

The figure was that of a negro, who sat on a rock pile in the sun, hammering limestone chunks into road metal.

The man chained to his rock pile doubted the wisdom of his question, but African inquisitiveness had mastered his better judgment.