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"But ain't she the little spitfire? I reckon she sure hates you thorough." Roy did not answer. He was sliding from the back of his horse in a faint. When Beaudry opened his eyes again, Dingwell was pouring water into his mouth from a canteen that had been hanging to the pommel of Miss Rutherford's saddle. "Was I unconscious?" asked the young man in disgust. "That's whatever.
The scaling him with chairs for ladders to dive into his pockets, despoil him of brown-paper parcels, hold on tight by his cravat, hug him round his neck, pommel his back, and kick his legs in irrepressible affection! The shouts of wonder and delight with which the development of every package was received!
I'll catch you," he urged. Grace shook her head and tried to smile. "I I think I can make it, tha ank you," she gasped, freeing her feet from the stirrups and slipping limply until her feet touched the ground. For a moment she stood leaning against the bronco for support, one hand clinging to the pommel of the saddle.
Bending over with a swift movement, he secured it and dropped the loop over the pommel. Then, with grinding teeth, he looked to see what the issue would be. The band had scattered so as not to afford such a broad mark for bullets. The riders faced Venters, some with red-belching guns.
I saw the riders dash towards an animal who 'needed branding' which I discovered to mean one that had hitherto escaped the iron, or that had changed owners throw a rope over its head or horns, fasten the other end to the pommel, and drag it to the fire, where it was thrown and tied.
He was Sir Gaston Robert Belward, Baronet. He remembered now how, at Prince Rupert's side, he had sped on after Ireton's horse, cutting down Roundheads as he passed, on and on, mad with conquest, yet wondering that Rupert kept so long in pursuit while Charles was in danger with Cromwell: how, as the word came to wheel back, a shot tore away the pommel of his saddle; then another, and another, and with a sharp twinge in his neck he fell from his horse.
"What are you doing, comrade?" cried Roland, when he was aware of the mishap. "A man wants no staff in such a battle as this. 'Tis the steel and nothing else that he must have. Where is your sword Hautclere, with its hilt of gold and its pommel of crystal?" "On my word," said Oliver, "I have not had time to draw it; I was so busy with striking."
'Because, said Merlin, 'no man shall handle this sword but the best Knight in the world, and that is either Sir Lancelot or his son Sir Galahad. With this sword Sir Lancelot shall slay the man he loves best, and Sir Gawaine is his name. And this was later done, in a fight across the seas. All this Merlin wrote on the pommel of the sword.
Tad rose in the stirrups as he neared the spot where the hat lay, keeping his eyes fixed intently upon it. All at once he dropped to the saddle and slipped the left foot from the stirrup. Grasping the pommel with the left hand, he appeared to dive head first toward the ground.
The hunter merely pours powder into his left palm, transfers it to his gun, drops a bullet from his mouth into the muzzle, hits the butt smartly on his pommel, which at once sends the charge home and forces priming into the pan, and thus is ready for another shot. Victor, having forgotten all about this, immediately put three bullets into his mouth, his gun being already loaded.
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