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'But don't forget I still have the pistol, even if I haven't the shells. The first man who tries to come up here will have a headache tomorrow. 'I shouldn't bank on it, sonny. Come along, kiddo! You're done. Be good, and own it. We can't wait much longer. 'You'll have to try. Buck's voice broke in on the discussion, quite unintelligible except that it was obviously wrathful.
It was a great comfort to them all to find themselves once again in the open country, where they could draw their breath; and then, too, there were no longer any whistling bullets and crashing shells to harass them; the firing had ceased on this side of the valley.
The British shells pursued us till we were out of sight, but the only casualty was when a shell passed so close to Van der Merwe, the mining commissioner of Johannesburg, that the concussion knocked him off his horse. That evening Jonas came into camp. Jonas is quite a character in his way.
The smile was not scornful, but it was at least amused at the expense of the sightseer who had dodged one of our own shells. In addition to the respirators in case of a possible gas attack, supplied by that staff officer with a twinkle in his eye, we needed a steel rod fastened to the back of our necks and running down our spinal columns in order to preserve our dignity.
The night, ye maun ken, was mirk, and the wind lowne, and the singing of the increasing waters among the shells and the pebbles was heard for sundry miles. All at once lights began to glance and twinkle on board the two Haunted Ships from every hole and seam, and presently the sound as of a hatchet employed in squaring timber echoed far and wide.
His correspondence still included some description at that time, the earth still held his attention; but it was soon to lose interest for him. "The appearance of Tracy and Quennevières," he wrote, "is simply unbelievable: ruins, an inextricable entanglement of trenches almost touching one another, the soil turned over by the shells, the holes of which one sees by thousands.
You read this morning in the Times how one of the Russian war-balloons went the night before last and hung in the darkness over a sleeping town on the Austrian frontier, and dropped dynamite shells upon it, killing and maiming hundreds who had no personal quarrel with Russia. That is war, and therefore lawful! "Nonsense, my friend, nonsense! There is no difference.
The Boers changed their artillery fire from time to time; first it was at our artillery and cavalry, then into the Devons as they advanced or as they lay down in the last field of veldt, waiting for the final charge; and then they sent a few shells into a body of cavalry that was on our extreme left. The very last shot they fired was a good one, just when the fight was over, right into our guns.
It thrust out its high head and emitted powerful roars, which made the temple walls shake beneath their votive decorations, and even the saint's slippers dance in their niche. The Tarasconian alone did not tremble. "At last you've come!" he shouted, jumping up and levelling the rifle. Bang, bang! went a brace of shells into its head. It was done.
Time after time I saw the huge shells leap skywards and vanish on their long journey, and stood thus lost in wonder, and as I watched I could not but remark on the speed and dexterity with which the crews handled these monstrous engines.
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