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The Ghoorkhas were all engaged in clearing the ridges, and the Bombay Pioneers pushed forward an advance guard, the Borderers moving up to their support. The deepest gorge was enfiladed by a party of tribesmen, with Martinis. One man fell with a broken leg. The man helping him was shot a moment later and, when a stretcher was brought back, two more of the Borderers were hit.
So far from being in retreat southward and westward, so far from waiting supinely about Urgundeh until Macpherson as per programme should drive it on to the muzzles of Baker's Martinis, here it was inside our guard, in possession of the interior line, its front facing toward turbulent Cabul and depleted Sherpur, with no obstruction in its path save this handful of lancers and these four guns!
"There's a man behind you tryin' to give you something to drink." "Who was it said these were Martinis?" snorted Pedlow. "They've got perfumery in 'em." "Ah, what a bad lion it is!" Madame de Vaurigard lifted both hands in mock horror. "Roar, lion, roar!" she cried. "An' think of the emotion of our good Cavaliere Corni, who have come an hour early jus' to make them for us!
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