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How was that? There was fortune's caper for you! Number One! And the time past or but a few hours between then and the limit for stepping up and claiming it! And Hun Shanklin had a hand in it. Wait a minute wait! Hun Shanklin, and a man called Jerry, and Peterson, the Swede. But Shanklin, who sent telegrams assuring somebody that Peterson was Number One Shanklin most of all.
The question whether the Huns should join in the struggle for the Chinese imperial throne was therefore decided among the Huns themselves in 304 in the affirmative, by the founding of the "Hun Han dynasty". All that remained was the practical question of how to hold out with their small army of 50,000 men if serious opposition should be offered to the "barbarians".
Slavens never had carried arms in his life, and he had no means of buckling Hun Shanklin's old revolver about him, but he felt that he must take it with him when he left the tent. Big and clumsy as it was, he thrust it under the belt which sustained his trousers, where it promised to carry very well, although it was not in a free-moving state in case an emergency should demand its speedy use.
I had learned to know that a long while before the war the eyes of the Hun, the bird of prey, had been fixed upon us as a juicy morsel. He had written it, he had said it. Since August, 1914, these Pan-German schemes had been leaking out for all who chose to understand them. A great many did not so choose.
"'Tis morn, but scarce yon lurid sun Can pierce the war-clouds rolling dun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout 'mid their sulphurous canopy." "You'd think, from the way the bird 's singing, and the flowers blooming, that there'd never been a gun fired within a hundred miles o' here." "Seems like we only dreamed all that happened last night," accorded Alf Russell.
"Some Hun officer stole our airplane," said Bob. "That's what I make of it." "But the war is over," protested Frank. "Maybe it is," said Bob darkly. "But if that bird doesn't fly back with our airplane I'll make war on Germany myself." Despite his gloom, Frank grinned. He slapped big Bob on the back. "Come on, old boy," he said. "No use hanging around here.
But much of the great work in the air is done by the scouting planes, which take desperate chances, and find it hard to fight back when they are attacked. And it was scouts who were above us now and, doubtless, sending word back by wireless of a new and mysterious concentration of British forces along the Scarpe, which it might be a good thing for the Hun artillery to strafe a bit!
So he escaped not the common doom, when Hun with "Lafing," the light-of-battle, best of blades, his bosom pierced: its edge was famed with the Frisian earls. The burg was reddened with blood of foemen, and Finn was slain, king amid clansmen; the queen was taken. To their ship the Scylding warriors bore all the chattels the chieftain owned, whatever they found in Finn's domain of gems and jewels.
With the full consent of the intellect, of the heart and the conscience, these glorious French boys have given themselves to God, to freedom, and to France. Why the Hun Cannot Defeat the Frenchman One morning in a little restaurant in Paris I was talking with a British army-captain. The young soldier was a typical Englishman, quiet, reserved, but plainly a little excited.
You may remember that Han Wuti, to solve the Hun problem, sent Chang Ch'ien out through the desert to discover the Yueh Chi' and that Chang found them at last in Bactria, which they had conquered from Greeks who had held it since Alexander's time.
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