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Updated: May 7, 2025
I know of no one more deservin' o' such fortune than Battersleigh, late of the Rile Irish, an' now a Citizen o' the World. Gad, but I've a'most a mind to buy a bit of land me own silf, an' marry the Maid o' the Mill, fer the sake o' roundin' out the play. Man, man, it's happy I am to-day!" "It looks a good deal like taking advantage of another's ignorance," said Franklin argumentatively.
"You'll be going away," said Franklin, sadly, as he rose and took Battersleigh by the hand. "You'll be going away and leaving me here alone awfully alone." "Ned," said the tall Irishman, rising and laying, a hand upon his shoulder, "don't ye belave I'll be lavin' ye.
"Well, friend," said the fireman, who was oiling the engine as he passed, and who grinned amiably as he spoke, "you're sure at the front now." Franklin had not advised his friend Battersleigh of his intended arrival, but as he looked about him he saw that he had little need for any guide. Ellisville as an actual town did not yet exist.
Battersleigh, master of ceremonies by natural right, and comfortable gentleman at heart, spied out these three, and needed but a glance to satisfy himself of their identity. Folk were few in that country, and Sam had often been very explicit in his descriptions.
As all America was under canvas, it was not strange that Colonel Battersleigh should find his home in a tent, and that this tent should be pitched upon the Western Plains. Not that he had gone directly to the West after the mustering out of his regiment. To the contrary, his first abode had been in the city of New York, where during his brief stay he acquired a certain acquaintance.
Yet all the time she's wonderin' pfwhy you don't!" Franklin smiled in spite of himself. "Battersleigh's Tactics and Manual of Strategy," he murmured. "All right, old man. I thank you just the same. I presume I'll live, at the worst. And there's a bit in life besides what we want for ourselves, you know." "There's naught in life but what we're ready to take for oursilves!" cried Battersleigh.
Perhaps none ever had until he came to the Plains. For this was on the Plains. When the bitter tide of war had ebbed, Battersleigh had found himself again without a home. He drifted with the disintegrating bodies of troops which scattered over the country, and in course of time found himself in the only portion of America which seemed to him congenial.
"A gintleman like Battersleigh of the Rile Irish always rides," he said, and natural horseman as well as trained cavalryman was Battersleigh, tall, lean, flat-backed, and martial even under his sixty admitted years. It was his claim that no Sudanese spearsman or waddling assegai-thrower could harm him so long as he was mounted and armed, and he boasted that no horse on earth could unseat him.
"Sir," said Battersleigh, "it's takin' advantage o' their Wisdom. The land's worth it, as you'll see yoursilf in time. The price is naught. The great fact is that they who own the land own the earth and its people. 'Tis out of the land an' the sea an' the air that all the wilth must come. Thus saith Batty the Fool.
Softly and sadly, sweetly and soothingly, the trumpets sang a melody of other days, an air long loved in the old-time South. And Annie Laurie, weeping, heard and listened, and wept the more, and blessed God for her tears! Colonel Henry Battersleigh sat in his tent engaged in the composition of a document which occasioned him concern.
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