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Branch's voice shook. "I'm dying of a fever, and this ivory-billed toucan brings me a quart of poison. Bullets!" It was impossible to describe the suggestion of profanity with which the speaker colored this innocuous expletive. "Weak as I am, I shall gnaw his windpipe." He bared his teeth suggestively and raised two talon- like hands. The waiter was puzzled, but not alarmed.
But the rift in the line was rapidly closed up. Jackson, riding in front of the Light Division, and urging the men to hold their fire and use their bayonets, rallied the 27th and led them to the front; while Branch's regiments, opening their ranks for the fugitives to pass through, and pressing forward with unbroken line, drove back the Northern skirmishers, and moving into the wheatfield engaged their main body in the opposite wood.
Shakespeare, Rostand, and Barrie have both, and are naturally therefore great dramatists. Two of the most of Miss Branch's poems are Lazarus Ora Pro Nobis. These are fruitful subjects for poetry, the man who came back from the grave and the passionate woman buried alive. In the short piece Lazarus, cast into the form of dialogue Lazarus answers the question put to him by Tennyson in In Memoriam.
I I'd rather live with an adder!" O'Reilly's youthful asistente, who at the moment was painstakingly manufacturing a huge, black cigar for himself out of some purloined tobacco, pricked up his ears at the mention of Branch's name and now edged closer, exclaiming: "Carumba! There's a hero for you. Meester Branch is the bravest man I ever seen. Our people call him 'El Demonio'!"
He tried to rise so that he might go with it, but could not. It returned into the wood. Before him, racing toward the gully, came another wave Branch's brigade, yelling as it charged. He saw it a moment like a grey wall, with the colours tossing, then it poured down into the gully and up and past him. He put up his arms to shield his face, but the men swerved a little and did not trample him.
Up along the festoon shot a tongue of red flame. The nearest adjoining branch's burden of moss caught the fiery breath and burst into blaze. With lightning speed, the fire roared upward, the branches to either side blazing as the outsputtering flames kissed them.
Nor did he regard it as a mark of friendship on their part when they collected an audience that evening to watch him milk the cow a procedure, by the way, not devoid of excitement and hazard, inasmuch as Branch's knowledge of cows was even more theoretical than his knowledge of babies.
" P. M. B. Young's " " Thomas L. Rosser's " MAJ.-GEN. W. H. F. LEE'S Division. Brig.-Gen. Rufus Barringer's Brigade. " J. R. Chambliss's " Artillery Reserve: BRIG.-GEN. W. N. PENDLETON, Commanding. BRIG.-GEN. E. P. ALEXANDER'S DIVISION.* Cabell's Battalion. Manly's Battery. 1st Co. Richmond Howitzers. Carleton's Battery. Calloway's Battery. Haskell's Battalion. Branch's Battery.
Nice fat little spy." "So I suspected." Mr. Branch's beverage appeared at this moment. With a flourish the waiter placed a small glass and a bottle of dark liquid before him. Branch stared at it, then rolled a fiercely smoldering eye upward. "What's that?" he inquired. O'Reilly read the label. "It's bitters," said he. "BITTERS! And I asked for 'yellow' a glass of agwa with yellow."
'Money! I haven't seen a bona-fide dollar since I put on long pants. What does money look like? Is it round or ?" Johnnie produced from his pocket a handful of coins. Branch's eyes bulged, he touched a gold piece respectfully, weighed it carefully, then pressed it to his lips. He rubbed it against his cheeks and in his hair; he placed it between his teeth and bit it. "It's REAL!" he cried.
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