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Updated: May 29, 2025
Already the sun's rays were drawing a rank, unwholesome vapor from the long-submerged surface. We contemplated the ruin for a while, without words. "Poor Drawls!" Phillida sighed at length. "All your work just rubbed out!" "Never mind, Vere," I exclaimed impulsively. "We will put it all back in the same shape as it was."
All its life it had been asleep, but now it hardly got a chance for a nod, so swiftly did big events and crashing surprises come along in one another's wake: Friday morning, first glimpse of Real Nobility, also grand reception at Aunt Patsy Cooper's, also great robber raid; Friday evening, dramatic kicking of the heir of the chief citizen in presence of four hundred people; Saturday morning, emergence as practicing lawyer of the long-submerged Pudd'nhead Wilson; Saturday night, duel between chief citizen and titled stranger.
Some few rose to fight, stirred by some long-submerged instinct generated in the days of Genghis Khan. But the majority turned and fled, helter-skelter, down the sides of the mountains toward the valleys, leaving behind guns, ammunition, and cannon. One regiment, the Hundred and Second, stood its ground and fought. As a result it was almost completely annihilated.
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