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"Georges, drink it up, old fellow. There, now you can stand on those pins of yours. What's that a sabre cut?" "No, a scratch from an Uhlan's lance-tip. Cut like a razor, didn't it? I've just killed my horse, trying to get over a ditch. Can you give me a mount, Jack?" "There isn't a horse in the stable that can carry you to Metz," said Lorraine, quietly; "Diable is lame and Porthos is not shod.

He turned to the west, where the last Uhlan of the rear-guard was disappearing over the brow of the hill, brandishing his pennoned lance-tip in the late rays of the low-hanging sun. "Good-by," he said, smiling up at her from the steps. "Don't worry, please don't. Remember your father is well, and is working for France." He spoke of the marquis as her father; he always should as long as she lived.

After a moment he made out five mounted troopers, moving about on the crest of the hill, the sun slanting on stirrup metal and lance-tip. As he was about to resume his meditations, something about these lancers caught his eye something that did not seem quite right he couldn't tell what.

A French army, moving, cannot conceal itself; the red of trousers and caps, the mirror-like reflections of cuirass and casque and lance-tip, advertise the presence of French troops so persistently that an enemy need never fear any open landscape by daylight. Jack watched the cannonade, lying on his stomach, chin supported by both hands.