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Updated: May 1, 2025
Very slowly and deliberately he began to turn about; little by little his side came into view, all be-plastered with mud. It was a tempting sight. I forgot my prudent intentions, and fired my rifle; a pistol would have served at that distance. Round spun old bull like a top, and away he galloped over the prairie.
I see him still as he arrived, on a stretcher full of little pebbles, with his mud be-plastered coat, and his handsome, honest face, like that of a well-behaved child. "You must excuse me," he said; "we can't keep ourselves very clean." "Have you any lice?" asks the orderly, as he undresses him. Mouchon flushes and looks uneasy. "Well, if I have, they don't really belong to me."
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