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Tradition rehearsed every detail of that day's work, and the purpose of this narrative is only to give the details of some of the events which tradition does not know, at least in their entirety. They started at one end of Morgantown's street. Pierre guarded the wagon in the center of the street and kept the people under cover of his rifle.
But how could they tell from the passing of those ringing hoofs that Pierre, the novice, was dead, and Red Pierre was born? So they drowsed on about their comfortable fires, and Pierre drew rein with a jerk before the largest of Morgantown's saloons. He had to set his teeth before he could summon the resolution to throw open the door.
So they drowsed on about their comfortable fires, and Pierre drew rein with a jerk before the largest of Morgantown's saloons. With a hand on the swinging doors he paused a breathless moment, thinking, doubting, wondering and a little cold of heart like the boy who stands on the bank of the river to take the first plunge in the spring of the year.
Tradition rehearsed every detail of that day's work, and the purpose of this narrative is only to give the details of some of the events which tradition does not know, at least in their entirety. They started at one end of Morgantown's street. Pierre guarded the wagon in the center of the street and kept the people under cover of his rifle.
Then a coffin improvised hastily for the occasion out of a packing-box was lowered reverently, also by "volunteer" mourners, and before the first sod fell on the dead. Pierre raised over his head the crucifix of Father Victor that brought good luck, and intoned a service in the purest Ciceronian Latin, surely, that ever regaled the ears of Morgantown's elect.
Then a coffin improvised hastily for the occasion out of a packing-box was lowered reverently, also by "volunteer" mourners, and before the first sod fell on the dead, Pierre borrowed a long black cloak from one of the women and wrapped himself in it, in lieu of the robe of the priest, and raised over his head the crucifix of Father Victor that brought good luck, and intoned a service in the purest Ciceronian Latin, surely, that ever regaled the ears of Morgantown's elect.
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