were "the sahibs" who had sought to destroy him, on foot, from howdahs, from seats in the trees; in vain had bullocks and goats and buffalo calves been tied up as bait; even the ghastly remains of his meals had been watched. Yet still he went free, the "slayer," the "striped one," the "lord of the jungle." (No villager mentions the tiger by name, for fear of ill-luck.)
If Franklin had been desperate, what could Hood do now, with the heart of them dead in his brave men, with sorrow in their hearts for comrades who slept in trenches under the sod of Franklin, and beloved commanders who, now being dust, were but a week before pictured forever between the sky and the bastions of steel as they rode over the breastworks to death? Even in the heart of the starved and the hardened lives memory—and what memory must have been theirs in the sleet and cold of those bitter December nights, while waiting for Thomas to come forth from his warmth and food to give battle. If Franklin had been a desperate case, was not this worse—the combined forces of Thomas and Schofield, Smith and Steedman? Anyone but Hood would have stopped and thought, but Hood never thought.
“Well, sir,” I said, answering the look, “I believe in him.”
Back went the crate lid. Out onto the kitchen floor shambled a dog.
He slipped his arm in mine, led me into Mosley Street, 92and stopped in front of the large, dismal office of the Calico Printers’ Association.
the guide led them further back from the shore line. It was fearfully rough. At times they were almost compelled to get down on their hands and knees in order to make progress; but in spite of all this they persisted diligently, and in the end reached what Arturus must have considered a reasonably safe distance from the battery.
I read on to the end. Then I shut the book and looked up again. Delane sat silent, his great hands clasping the arms of his chair, his head slightly sunk on his breast. His lids were dropped, as I imagined reverentially. My own heart was beating with a religious emotion; I had
"But, Father," I said, "that is impossible; you do not know the road over the hills well enough, and the country is alive with troops you can never pass."
"You are probably aware," he continued, "that I am deeply interested in Mademoiselle Orviéff. Have you seen her since Kourásoff's arrest?"详情 ➢
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