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The 'Paches have killed one of Slade's punchers and are chasing the others back." Lennon kissed the quivering girl and thrust her from him to grasp his rifle. "We're safe now, Blossom. But I must help to cover the retreat of our men." He ran to the crane-hoist opening. Slade was crouched behind a barricade of corn-filled sacks, hotly blazing away down the valley.
"It was very much this kind of night, and we were lying, reefed down, off one of the Russians' beaches, when I asked for volunteers. I got them two boats' crews of the finest seamen that ever handled oar or sealing rifle." "But what did you want them for?" "A boat from another schooner had been cast ashore.
It was Claude de Chauxville's task to protect Paul from any flank or rear attack; and Claude de Chauxville was peering over his covert, watching with blanched face the second bear; and lifting no hand, making no sign. The bear was within a few yards of Paul, who was crouching behind the fallen pine and now raising his rifle to his shoulder.
Before Ken could reply there came a shot from somewhere quite close at hand, and with a sharp cry Ken dropped his rifle. 'Winged, old chap? said Roy, turning quickly. As he did so Kemp made a dash, and hurled himself up the slope to the left. 'Never mind me! cried Ken. 'Catch Kemp. Shoot him. Stop him anyhow. Roy flung up his rifle and took a snap shot.
Snider and Taylor were armed with rifles and revolvers, while I carried only a revolver. Seizing Snider's rifle from his trembling hands, I called to Taylor to follow me, and together we ran forward, shouting, to attract the beast's attention from Delcarte until we should all be quite close enough to attack with the greatest assurance of success.
As Ben Gaynor's daughter, never as his own beloved wife, she had become his responsibility. She was a parcel marked "Fragile Handle with Care," which he had undertaken to deliver safely to a friend. "I am going to look for the horse," he told her. He got to his feet and took up his rifle. "But don't count too much on my success.
There is an old, old story in America of the Englishman who arrived in New York and, on the day after his arrival, got out his rifle and proceeded to make enquiries of the hotel people as to the best direction in which to start out to find buffalo the nearest buffalo at the time being, perhaps, two thousand miles away.
I reloaded my rifle, looked at the receding train, and made up my mind to have that wheel if it took the balance of the day to get it into camp. I started by rolling it by hand, then by dragging it behind me, then I ran my rifle through the hub and got it up on my shoulder, when I moved off at a good pace.
But they bear it all with ironic indifference, consoling themselves especially with the thought that they killed one Boer for certain yesterday. "The captain saw him fall." Crossing the open valley in front I came to the long ridge called Observation Hill. There the rifle fire hardly ever ceases. It is held by three companies of the K.R.R. and the 5th Lancers dismounted.
"I told you that the test of my theory, Knox, was to be looked for in the seventh yew from the northeast corner of the Tudor garden, did I not?" "You did. And it is there. A bullet fired from a Lee-Enfield rifle; beyond any possible shadow of doubt the bullet which killed Colonel Menendez." "Beyond any possible shadow of doubt, as you say, Knox, the bullet which killed Colonel Menendez."
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