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Ned said nothing for several seconds. Then he remarked slowly: "Well, Tom, it proves one thing; but not the other." "What do you mean?" "I mean that it may be perfectly true that the button came off Mr. Boylan's coat, but that doesn't prove that he wore it. You can be reasonably sure that the coat was having a ride in your Eagle, but was Boylan in the coat? That's the question." "In the coat?
It did not occur to Boylan that this was wisdom; rather the pith of the emotion was to the effect that he was getting old. The child's thin voice reached him in questionings, and the steady low tones of the woman. A man could ask little more of the world than to lead a child thus.... Perhaps they were poor. Boylan would have liked to fix that.
The more decorated they are the more they fall for Boylan. There's a chance that you'll start south with a column within two days. So you'd better get at that encyclopedia stuff " "Yes, I'll attend to that."
This was the day of the great battle, but there was to be breakfast first. He recalled what was in the saddle-bags. This proved unsatisfactory. Even that hinged on Peter, as every thought so far. ... Boylan now reflected that he might have stayed longer in the ward last night. There was just as much to hold him to the cot of Samarc as had called Peter.
Boylan drew in close, having washed noisily, and deposited the remaining provisions in the two saddle-bags. "We're fixed for supper and breakfast," he remarked, with a sigh. "You said that the army that would win this war must win through famine. The Russians had better begin " "I didn't say anything about Mr. B. B. Boylan " "Mr.
He had covered him with his little pocket gun, as he handed back the arms. Still Boylan couldn't have caused him to fall prisoner. His hope now was that the Lieutenant would find such a rush and turmoil that he would be compelled to forget the incident. ...He heard their voices at the upper door of the stairway. "Is that you, Boylan?" "Yep." "Good-morning. What's up?" It was Peter.
The table was between them. "But first," said Boylan, "there is a little business in which you can help. My friend, Mowbray... is just coming back to life from Russian wounds. I could not leave him without being assured of his care. There is one little nurse from the entrainment wards it is a good story, which I will tell in good time competent to care for him.
B. Bonfort Miss Martha Bonfort Mr. J. Barnes Rev. Edwin M. Bliss Mr. F.D. Blakeslee Mr. J. Lomas Bullock Mr. W. Butterworth Mrs. Mary B. Byrne Mr. John Blair Rev. John Boylan Mr. J. Collins Mr. Stanley Conner Mr. Aug. T. Chur Miss Cranston Mr. and Mrs. Wm. M. Cranston Mr. J. P. Croal Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Russell Crampton Miss Florence A. Cordis Miss Nellie R. Cordis Mr. L. Crules Mr.
Boylan did not always hear them. The German officers declared that there were no such sounds. Boylan's sack was filled with blood. "If I ever get out of here," he said, "I'll write one story one battle till I die and I'll call it 'Vintage Fourteen'." For he was sick of the spilled wine of men.
The lower half of the town was in a final ruin that blocked the streets. Its single peculiarity struck him with queer emotion. He returned to the stair- door. A long-repressed volume came forth from his lungs, as he trudged wearily upward. Peter turned back from the upper door, since nothing further in the way of news was to be had from Boylan.
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