Droke

Off the main thoroughfare of West Street were a number of small roads and alleys, which were often called 'drokes', although this rather archaic description quite passed me by at the time. […] One of the aforementioned drokes — or call it what you will — still exists today, at Adelaide Place, […]

I sent Fogarty forward to Foul-weather Droke to prepare for the night; while I walked to Condon Tickle and measured the breadth of it. I then went over Lower Table to the Droke; where I observed much old slot of deer, […]

And how dexterously he ascended the "sculpin highlands," climbed up Job's Cove Droke, toiled through the sands at Northern Bay, waded the Northern Gut, or plodded through Short's Marsh, would furnish a theme for conversation to the weary traveller, as he sat by the cheerful evening fire, and[…]

I tooked her [a gun] and the powder-harn and shot-bag and starts up yander through the droke. You know the little pond at the top of the hill. When I cumed in sigh' o' un, the first thing I see is a loo' (loon) sitting about the middle uv un.

Across the droch, lifted high above the maid and me, his slender figure black against the pale-green sky, stood John Cather on the brink of Tom Tulk's cliff, with arms extended in some ecstasy to the smouldering western fire.

In passing through a droke of woods they came up with a wigwam which they entered, and took three Indian females, which have since been found to be Mother and her two daughters. These women they brought to their own homes, where they kept them[…]

[…] over the range known to the Indians as the Kesoquit Hills, and to make my outside camps in a droke of woods amongst these mountains, and another still farther to the west in another droke on Shoe Hill Ridge, in the centre of Steve's trapping-ground. Steve had told me that the latter position commanded wide views for miles[…]

we lost sight of him entirely, as he entered a droke of woods where it was impossible to follow him any further.

[…] had broken into "Moonlight Bay" [...] had crossed another field, gone through a small droke of woods, and emerged at the end of the pond where the trail met the main farm road and King was waiting with his barbecue.

[…] tucked back in a spindly droke of woods above the harbor and away from the other houses around the bay. The trees were the only ones within a mile of the water that hadn't been cut for firewood or walls or stagehouse posts or oars.