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Updated: June 18, 2025
"Yes; get a whisky and soda and a straw, if there's one left." The booming died away. A few minutes later the Staff, ably assisted by the General's batman, got one end of the straw into the worthy Brigadier's mouth. The Colonel closed those holes he could see with his fingers, and the signalling officer held the drink. "Now, are we ready?" cried the Brigade-Major anxiously. "All right, sir suck."
"There, say at once that the Deluge is coming, and let us be done with it," said the canon, rising. "So that we are at the brigadier's mercy!" "For a few days only. Don't be angry with me. In spite of my uniform I am an enemy of militarism; but we are ordered to strike and we strike. There could not be a viler trade than ours."
If a direct advance had been made on the hill from where the battalion lay he would have been obliged to drive out of his wood in order to keep the battle in view. A move to the right could be watched comfortably from where he sat The Colonel explained the situation, not the Brigadier's feelings, to his officers, exposing himself with reckless gallantry as he passed from company to company.
Two objects struck me especially in the brigadier's abode: a large officer's cross of St.
First of all, a brigadier in the German army, his secretary, physician, three servants, and seven horses. The brigadier's name was the Comte de Wostpur. A Spanish cardinal, with two nephews, two secretaries, an officer of his household, and twelve horses. The cardinal's name was Monseigneur Herrebia. A rich merchant of Bremen, with his man-servant and two horses.
"That does not rest with me," I repeated, and I went on towards the brigadier's quarters, leaving her a white shadow in the dimly lighted passage. I found the chief at his own dinner-table with an untouched glass of wine before him. "This is a bad business," he said, looking at me with haggard eyes. I had never quite realized before what an old man he was.
And I had to throw away the better half of a first-class manilla. The brigadier's quarters were across a square in the centre of a long rambling palace, for which a handsome rent was duly paid. We were not making war. On the contrary, we were forcing peace down the throat of the native prince on the point of a sword. Everything was upon a friendly footing. We were not an invading force.
After waiting three hours to rest the horses, they again mounted and, riding all night, arrived in the morning at Yuadit a village twenty-six miles from Tharawa and found the force on the point of starting. "No bad news, I hope, Mr. Brooke?" the general said, as he rode up to him. "I am sorry to say, sir, that my news is not good. Here is the brigadier's despatch."
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