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Updated: May 18, 2025
"Eis vos la Bataille assemblee, Dunc encore est grant renomee." Arletta's pretty feet twinkling in the brook gained her a duke's love, and gave us William the Conqueror. Had she not thus fascinated Duke Robert, the Liberal, of Normandy, Harold would not have fallen at Hastings, no Anglo-Norman dynasty could have arisen, no British empire.
"Why didn't you get here sooner?" she panted, as if she had been running; for the blind rage was strong in her. His anger burst out to meet hers. "I wish I had!" he cried, with a furious oath. "He insulted me. He laughed at me, and taunted me and kissed me!" Jack nodded. "I saw. If I had only had my rifle with me! Who was he?" "He wore a mask. But I knew him. It was Dunc Boone."
Thirty o' ye and I want nae Dowbiggins 'll come with me, and we'll bring the Pennies aff the shed quicker than they got up, and drive them up the back streets till we land them wi' the rest in Breadalbane Street; and the juniors 'ill keep us well supplied with balls, else Dunc and me will ken the reason at two o'clock.
Peter's one rival in the idolatry of the school was Duncan Ronald Stewart Robertson, commonly known as Dunc, and Dunc was in everything except honesty, generosity, and courage, the exact opposite of Peter McGuffie. Robertson's ancestors had been lairds of Tomnahurich, a moor in Rannoch, with half a dozen farms, since the Deluge, as they believed, and certainly since history began.
No ball sliding off the bat, could pass Dunc Robertson, and as for byes they were impossible with Speug as long-stop, for those were the days when there were long-stops.
The Seminary were slow to move, but once they took fire they burned gloriously; and when Dunc Robertson and Nestie Molyneux, who had been sent up to St.
"Well, then, Woodward, if that suits you better." "Mr. Woodward, if you please." "Oh, come, Dunc, hurry up," interrupted Moran. "We don't want to stay here all day." "I'm only teaching this fellow a lesson in politeness." "All right; only cut it short." "See here, Moran, who's the president of this club?" "You are." "Well, then, I'll take my own time," replied Duncan, loftily. "Go ahead then.
Dunc went into his father's regiment and fell at Tel-el-Kebir, and there is one Seminary man at least who keeps the portraits of the two captains Peter McGuffie, the Scot, the horsedealer's son, and a very vulgar varlet indeed, and Duncan Robertson, the Celt, a well-born man's son, and a gentleman himself from head to foot in remembrance of a school which was rough and old-fashioned, where, indeed, softness and luxury were impossible, but where men were made who had the heart in them to live and die for their country.
The night grew chill, but he dared not light a fire. At last the first streaks of gray dawn lightened the sky. A quarter of an hour later he shook his captive from slumber. "Time to hit the trail." The outlaw murmured sleepily, "How's that, Dunc? Twenty-five thousand apiece!" "Wake up! We've got to vamose out of here." Slowly the fellow shook the sleep from his brain.
He thrust out his hand toward MacLeod. "Give me the pistol! He won't shoot himself; I'll do it for him!" "It would work, Dunc. Really, it would," Heym ben-Hillel urged. "No," Karen Hilquist contradicted. "If he left here, everybody would know what had happened, and we'd be accused of protecting him. If he kills himself, we can get things hushed up: dead traitors are good traitors.
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