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Updated: July 25, 2025
A figure had detached itself from among the rocks they had passed moments earlier and came down toward them carbine ready. "Anse!" Drew stumbled toward the Texan. The other’s hat was gone. A torn shirt sleeve flapped about his left arm, allowing sight of a neckerchief knotted about his forearm. His coat trailed from one shoulder. "What in the world happened to you?"
At its head was a youthful fellow with some dim yellow stripes upon his arm. In his right hand he held his carbine, slanting upward, with the stock resting upon his knee. He was absorbed in a scrutiny of the country before him. At the heels of the sergeant the rest of the squad rode in thin column, with creak of leather and tinkle of steel and tin.
I could not pull the trigger. Would to God that I had done so! For I never had taken human life, neither done bodily harm to man; beyond the little bruises, and the trifling aches and pains, which follow a good and honest bout in the wrestling ring. Therefore I dropped my carbine, and grasped again my club, which seemed a more straight-forward implement.
Having buried the body of the unfortunate sailor in a snow-grave, and taken possession of the carbine and other things, they leaped on the sledge again, and continued to advance along the track, which, though in some places almost obliterated, was easily followed.
The captain assented, and ordered me to stand in readiness with the boat-hook, to shove ashore at a moment's notice if they should return, or to shove off if any of the savages should happen to approach. He then threw his carbine into the hollow of his arm and glided through the bushes, followed by his men. With a throbbing heart I awaited the result of our plan.
I never saw in my life a nobler figure than the leader of the troop mounted on a splendid black Arab; he was as tall, very nearly, as myself; he wore a steel cap and a shirt of mail, and carried a beautiful French carbine, which had already done execution upon two of my men. I saw that our only chance of safety lay in the destruction of this man.
The door was opened, and Philip, seizing his carbine, rushed out; he found Mynheer Poots on the ground between the two men, one of whom had raised his knife to plunge it into his body, when the ball of the carbine whizzed through his head.
Then, as he realized that the jaguar's mate might return at any moment, he resolved to make the bold venture without more delay. He was first careful to make himself sure that the brute was still asleep, when he slowly and cautiously raised his hand enough to reach for the carbine, which fortunately lay stock toward him.
Soon the noise in our little camp ceased, and, ere long, every man was asleep except the sentinels. Towards morning one of these observed a man approaching at full speed. As he came near the sentinel threw forward his carbine and challenged. The man stopped and looked about him like a startled hare, then, without reply, turned sharply to the left and dashed off. The sentinel fired.
Cavalry is never really efficient unless trained to rush into close contact with the enemy. To see the whites of their eyes is not sufficient; they must ride over the foe. In the rapid charge the carbine is not only useless, but a positive incumbrance. The saber is comparatively harmless; it serves to frighten the timid, but rarely ever deals a death-wound.
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