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That's all, except that I've found things interesting, and want to stay on a while, so I hope you aren't a 'dick'!" The other walked in silence, weighing Hal's words. "That's not exactly what you'd call a usual story," he remarked, at last. "I know," replied Hal. "The best I can say for it is that it's true." "Well," said the stranger, "I'll take a chance on it.
"Just like it cracked a cannon ball!" cried Hal, and he was in such a hurry to get down the cellar steps that he jumped two at a time. That might have been all right, only Roly-Poly, the little fat poodle dog, did the same thing. He became tangled up in Hal's legs, and, a moment later, the little boy and the dog were rolling toward the bottom of the steps, over and over just like a pumpkin.
"I can walk but give me your arm," gasped the wounded man. "Take me to your commanding officer!" Hal started, but had not far to go, for Captain Cortland was coming forward on the run. "Take that man to the porch of barracks," called the captain, whose eye, practised in wounds, saw much. "Don't make him walk far." Kelly sprang to Hal's aid.
"There will be no boys for you to dance with, dear girls," she told them gently, "as your parents might not approve," then added, with roguish lights in her splendid eyes: "No boys, dear girls, only a few masters to supper in the small dormitory." Hal's misdemeanours were of a less subtle kind.
Shag was thinking hard, but he said nothing; yet, little as he knew of the world, he was quite aware how few boys in Hal's position would act as he had done. Had it not been for Sir George's son what would his life at college have been?
Bluff King Hal's representative was waltzing in a way that would have filled that stout potentate with respectful admiration, while Queen Katherine flirted with a Fire Zouave. Alcipades whisked Mother Goose about the room till the old lady's conical hat tottered on her head, and the Union held fast to a very little Mac.
It was after we were comfortably seated about our camp-fire, in the evening, that I bethought myself that we had not as yet, heard Hal's story of his capture and adventures with the Apaches. So I called him, with the request he would narrate what had befallen him, from the time he left our camp at Dead-Man's Hole until his release by us in the Sacramento Mountains.
I could hardly wait to ask the question, "What do you mean by his artist soul? what is he doing? and the doctor's eyes were looking in wonder at me, and his lips parting with a word, when Hal's voice startled us with: "Emily, who is this?" and we turned to see him looking at Louis, whose hand was on his head. I answered, "The dear friend Hal who brought me here." "What a beautiful hand he has.
"You said the hail stones would tear the green leaves all to pieces and I don't want it to. Can't Mab come out and hold an umbrella, too? You've got one, Daddy, so you can help." Mr. Blake wanted to laugh but he did not like to hurt Hal's feelings. Besides he was a little worried lest Hal take cold in the pelting storm. So he said: "You must come in, Hal.
When Hal's men had attacked, Chester found it unnecessary to retreat, as he had figured upon doing, and the rain of hail continued to pour upon the enemy from all sides. The British gradually closed on the enemy, fewer now by half than they had been a few moments ago, until the circle had narrowed to within a few yards of the enemy.
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