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For this mare the hill-chief had returned no gift save the gold bracelet which Cumner's Son now carried in his belt. The mare leaned low on her bit, and travelled like a thirsty hound to water, the sorrel tugged at the snaffle, and went like a bullmoose hurrying to his herd, "That long low gallop that can tire The hounds' deep hate or hunter's fire." The pace was with the sorrel.
For this mare the hill-chief had returned no gift save the gold bracelet which Cumner's Son now carried in his belt. The mare leaned low on her bit, and travelled like a thirsty hound to water, the sorrel tugged at the snaffle, and went like a bullmoose hurrying to his herd, "That long low gallop that can tire The hounds' deep hate or hunter's fire." The pace was with the sorrel.
Before two minutes had passed one had ridden back to the orderly, who reported to the Colonel that the Dakoon had commanded the shooting of five men of the tribe of the outlaw hill-chief, Pango Dooni, against the rear wall of the Palace, where the Dakoon might look from his window and see the deed. The Colonel sat up eagerly in his chair, then brought his knuckles down smartly on the table.
Before two minutes had passed one had ridden back to the orderly, who reported to the Colonel that the Dakoon had commanded the shooting of five men of the tribe of the outlaw hill-chief, Pango Dooni, against the rear wall of the Palace, where the Dakoon might look from his window and see the deed. The Colonel sat up eagerly in his chair, then brought his knuckles down smartly on the table.
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