goyal

These, though known for their valour and their breed, were whimpering in a cluster at the head of a deep dip or goyal, as we call it, upon the moor, some slinking away and some, with starting hackles and staring eyes, gazing down the narrow valley before them.

The Seriously Deranged Writer and the Model Cars

This valley, or goyal, as we term it, being small for a valley, lies to the west of Linton, about a mile from the town perhaps, and away towards Ley Manor.

Lorna Doone

It was a most lucky thing for me, that I heard their clothes catch in the brambles, and saw their hats under the rampart of ash, which is made by what we call ‘splashing,’ and lucky, for me that I stood in a goyal, and had the dark coppice behind me.

Lorna Doone

We were come to a long deep ‘goyal,’ as they call it on Exmoor, a word whose fountain and origin I have nothing to do with.

Lorna Doone

Only I know that when little boys laughed at me at Tiverton, for talking about a ‘goyal,’ a big boy clouted them on the head, and said that it was in Homer, and meant the hollow of the hand.

Lorna Doone

These, though known for their valour and their breed, were whim - pering in a cluster at the head of a deep dip or goyal, as we call it, upon the moor, some slinking away and some, with starting hackles and staring eyes, gazing down the narrow valley before them.

The Hound of the Baskervilles

The most of them would by no means advance, but three of them, the boldest, or it may be the most drunken, rode forward down the goyal.

The Hound of the Baskervilles

But the noise of the water told me where I was; and I got up, and ran for the life of me, till I came to the goyal.

Slain By The Doones

We were come to a long deep 'goyal,' as they call it on Exmoor, a word whose fountain and origin I have nothing to do with.

Lorna Doone; a Romance of Exmoor

It was a most lucky thing for me, that I heard their clothes catch in the brambles, and saw their hats under the rampart of ash, which is made by what we call 'splashing,' and lucky, for me that I stood in a goyal, and had the dark coppice behind me.

Lorna Doone; a Romance of Exmoor