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His facility of communicating the information he had acquired, was thus displayed before a concourse of spectators. Previously to general Brock's crossing over to Detroit, he asked him what sort of a country he should have to pass through, in case of his proceeding farther.
There was more of a like quality a good bit more; some of it regretful; all of it pungent and logical from Miss Van Brock's point of view; and Kent was no rock not to be moved by the small tempest of disappointed vicarious ambition.
At such times, instead of hastily and silently regaling himself, he made a great a-do, grunting with rage and defiance, like a dog that guards a marrow-bone but will not settle down to gnaw its juicy ends. Brock's brother was so often deprived of his legitimate spoils, that, while his surliness was increased, his bodily growth was checked.
The baby set up a lusty howl of aversion. "For God's sake, take him back to his mother!" groaned Brock hastily. "He doesn't like strangers! Take him away!" "It isn't a he, sir," whispered the maid, as the nurse prepared to beat a hasty retreat with the Medcroft offspring. "It's a her, sir." Brock's face was a study in perplexity as they hurried from the car. "By George," he muttered, "what next!"
The next day the British General, Sheaffe, Isaac Brock's successor, signed another armistice. The second armistice within a period of nine weeks! Such is the story of the Battle of Queenston Heights. After Van Rensselaer resigned his command in favour of Brigadier-General Smyth, the effect of the British victory upon the United States troops at Lewiston was beyond belief.
The effective Americans present were by that morning's report 1,060; while their field artillery, additional to that mounted in the works, was much superior to that of the enemy, was advantageously posted, and loaded with grape. Moreover, they had the fort, on which to retire. Brock's movements were audacious.
Brock's funeral; I actually said to him, in the impulse of the moment, 'Go, and begin your new life alone! go, and leave me here to wait for happier times. "He took me in his arms. He sighed, and kissed me with an angelic tenderness. He said oh, so softly and so sadly!
In may, 1864, after the battles of the Wilderness, Brock's Road, and Spottsylvania stop a minute and think of these battles don't you recall how, on that midnight of the 5th day of May, 1864, the order came, "Form your regiments," and then the order came to march? Through the woods we went. The stars shown so brightly. The hooting of the owls was our only music.
Brock's memory, traveling on nearer and nearer to present circumstances, reached the third stage of its journey through the by-gone time, and stopped at the year eighteen hundred and fifty, next. The five years that had passed had made little if any change in Allan's character.
"I guess you are!" said a voice right in his ear; "and you're due to be worse, Chappy, old boy much worse!" The smile slipped. He turned his head and looked into the complacent, chubby face and the pleased eyes of M. J. Brock, head of Brock's Detective Agency the man of all men in this world he wished least to see. For once, anyhow, in his life Marr was shaken, and showed it.