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Then he goes to the bat with his south hook 'n' Hamilton lays back his ears 'n' runs true again. . . . He out-games the Elephant a nod at the wire 'n' I'm twelve hundred to the clear. "When I gets to 'em, Micky's standin' in the track leanin' against Hamilton. The colt's shakin' all over 'n' his hind feet's in a big pool of blood.
By his side, in white flannel shirt and trousers, and the captain's belt, sits a strapping figure near six feet high, with ruddy, tanned face and a laughing eye. He is leaning forward, dandling his favourite bat, with which he has made thirty or forty runs to-day. It is Tom Brown, spending his last day as a Rugby boy. And at their feet sits Arthur, with his bat across his knees.
Then, in the fourth, with two sailors out when he came to bat, Dalzell exploded a two-bagger that brought the Navy to its feet on the benches, cheering and hat-waving. By the time that Dan's flying feet had kicked the first bag on the course Dave Darrin was holding the willow and standing calmly by the plate, watching.
It was childish, this sensation of presence in the room; but it was also unnerving. Why should so unusual a thing happen to him to-night? Was it purely over-wrought nerves, due to the strain of the peril he ran as Larry the Bat or was it intuition? Intuition had never failed him yet. Well, whatever it was, he would put a stop to it.
Bat was still busy with the horses and the cowboy collected sticks and lighted a small fire, talking, as he worked with swift movements that accomplished much without the least show of haste. "It generally don't take long in the cow country for folks to get their chance. Take Win, there. Day before yesterday he was about the greenest pilgrim that ever straddled a horse.
For Bat, the walk up from the quayside was one of the many milestones in his chequered life. He talked readily. He listened, too. But under it all his thought was busy. The mystery of Father Adam's letter was no longer a mystery. He understood. But he was also puzzled. How had this thing come about? How had Father Adam learned of this visit?
On the dais the impression was somewhat different; but all were one in this, that every eye was fixed on lord Herbert, every thought hanging on his pleasure. For a whole minute he stood, apparently lost in meditation. The bat still rested on his hand, but his wings were still. He had intended causing it to settle on Amanda's head, but now he must alter his plan.
Anyhow, he wos a pheelosopher a natter-list I think he call his-self " "A naturalist," suggested Cameron. "Ay, that wos more like it. Well, he wos about six feet two in his moccasins, an' as thin as a ramrod, an' as blind as a bat leastways he had weak eyes an' wore green spectacles.
He was black with wrath at the Counsellor, this very afternoon but I must not keep you here you are much too brave, John; and I am much too selfish: there, what was that shadow?" "Nothing more than a bat, darling, come to look for his sweetheart. I will not stay long; you tremble so: and yet for that very reason, how can I leave you, Lorna?"
Of all Mr. Hawthorne's gifts, this gift of humour which would light up the skull and cross-bones of a village churchyard, which would be silent at a dinner-table is to me the most delightful. Then this writer has a strangely weird power. He loves ruins like the ivy, he skims the twilight like the bat, he makes himself a familiar of the phantoms of the heart and brain.
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