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Updated: June 29, 2025
After an hour's ride they drew near to the walls of Boossa, and soon arrived at the drummer's house, which had been their former residence.
More lads and lasses came in, and jigs and reels succeeded each other with such rapidity, that, notwithstanding the copious supplies of whiskey, the drummer's arms failed him, and the fifer had almost blown himself into an atrophy. Did I dance? To be sure I did, and right merrily too.
"I've got about thirty thousand dollars that I could put in, and if you don't want to consider me a partner I remember that you objected to a partner you can let me regard it as an investment. But I think I see the way to doing something at once in Mexico, and I should like to feel that I had something more than a drummer's interest in the venture." The men sat looking into each other's eyes.
On the contrary, for some occult feminine reason, it amused and interested her. It would be such a good story to tell her friends of a "drummer's" idea of gallantry; and to tease the flirtatious young West Pointer who had just joined. And the appraisement was truthful Major Cantire had only his pay and Miss Cantire had been obliged to select that hat from the government stores.
They could hear Drummer's voice, and it sounded very angry. "Ah reckon Brer Coon was waked up and lost his temper," chuckled Unc' Billy. "It's a bad habit to lose one's temper. Yes, Sah, it cert'nly is a bad habit. Ah reckons Ah better be turning in fo' another nap, Brer Rabbit." With that Unc' Billy disappeared, still chuckling.
Jakin drank, but there was no sign of the regiment's return. They could hear a dull clamor from the head of the valley of retreat, and saw the Ghazis slink back, quickening their pace as the Gurkhas fired at them. "We're all that's left of the Band, an' we'll be cut up as sure as death," said Jakin. "I'll die game, then," said Lew, thickly, fumbling with his tiny drummer's sword.
"Drummer's grandfather a thousand times removed was just a plain little black and white bird without the least bit of bright color on him. He didn't have any sweeter voice than Drummer has to-day. Altogether he seemed to his neighbors a no-account little fellow, and they didn't have much to do with him. So Mr. Woodpecker lived pretty much alone.
Elizabeth, who heard the arrival, and the approach, arose and stood, waiting the meeting. In her hand she held a paper scroll, the drawing of Foray, which she had brought to aid her in this interview. It was, indeed, a royal person upon whom the eyes of the Drummer's Daughter fell, a person whose dignity and grace held at a distance even those whom they attracted.
An almost unholy desire possessed her to see Bob climb aboard at the next station, twine his lean hands around that drummer's trachea and shake some manhood into him. This thought suggested reflections upon the present state of Bob's health, so she took his last letter from her hand-bag and read it for the forty-second time.
The groans of two young singers who were seriously ill were drowned by the din and heeded by no one except the old drummer's pitying wife, who sometimes wiped the perspiration from the sufferers' brows or supported their heads. Other carts, containing the musicians' instruments, followed this tilted wagon.
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