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Then, in whispers, Harry told the story as rapidly as he could. Mr. Pollock's face took on a broader grin as he listened. "I'd hate to have young Prescott for my enemy," confessed the "Blade's" editor. "But this is the most atrocious joke I've ever known him to put up." "We had to put a stop to Dodge and Bayliss," Harry smiled.
They would execute him without mercy, and be only doing to him what he had done to the Whigs, and just as he had kept guard at Pollock's execution, that new Cameronian Regiment, of which there was much talk, would keep guard at his.
His name was a reproach among Pollock's friends, and Pollock began with no sympathy towards Rutherford's opinions, but the lad's soul was stirred when, in the college chapel of St. Andrew's and also in the parish kirk where Rutherford was colleague with that servant of the Lord Mr. Blair, he listened to Rutherford upon the love of God and the loveliness of Christ.
Pollock's advance-guard was about the middle of the defile, when the enemy were suddenly discovered blocking the pass in front, and holding the heights which Pollock's light troops should have crowned in advance of the column.
They paddled on in silence; the two had become fast friends since the day of Madge's visit, and had had many pleasant paddles together. Hildegarde looked about her, at peace with all the world. Pollock's Cove was a thousand miles away, and there was nothing to break the spirit of peace that brooded over the water. Are you so sure, Hilda?
"I'll burn it," and he held it to the bowl of his pipe. "No!" cried the girl. "Give it me." She took it straight back to the sick man. He lit a match and watched it burn with eyes that were almost covetous. "That's the last of 'em," he said. "Now I shall die in the open like a gentleman." He was, in fact, dying very fast. It did not need Dr. Pollock's assurance to make the girl aware of that.
It was Akbar Khan's last effort, and the quelling of it cost Pollock the trivial loss of thirty-two killed and 130 wounded. There was no more opposition, and it was well for the Afghans, for the awful spectacles presented in the Khoord Cabul Pass traversed on the following day, kindled in Pollock's soldiers a white heat of fury.
It was a small steam launch, gayly adorned with paint and streamers; in the bow stood a light, girlish figure, waving a handkerchief and gesticulating with fervour. "Who can it be?" asked Mrs. Merryweather. "The boat is from Pollock's Cove, isn't it, Roger?" "Yes; but I see no one on board that I know. That young lady evidently thinks she is coming among friends, however.
There was not very much time to spare after Gillian had looked at the exercises, noted and corrected the errors, and explained the difficulties or mistakes in the translation from Testament and Delectus, feeling all the time how much more mastery of the subject her pupil had than Mr. Pollock's at home had ever attained to.
Merryweather asked if she had come over from Pollock's Cove. "Oh, yes! I am staying there for a day or two. Some friends of mine are there, charming people, and I heard that Hildegarde was here, and of course I flew to see her. She is my oldest and dearest friend, Mrs. Merryweather." "Indeed!" said Mrs. Merryweather, with friendly interest. "Yes, indeed.
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