"Because he was very angry with Peter Junior, and he wanted to kill him, and he did try to push him over, but Peter struck him, and Richard didn't truly know whether he really pushed him over or not, for he lay there a long time before he even knew where he was, and when he came to himself again, he could not find Peter there and only his hat and things he thought he must have done it, because that was what he was trying to do, just as everyone else has thought it because when Peter saw him lying there, he thought he had killed Richard, and so he pushed a great stone over to make every one think he had gone over the bluff and was dead, too, and he left his hat there and the other things, and now he has come back to give himself up, just as he has said, because he could not stand it to live any longer with the thought on his conscience that he had killed Richard when he struck him.
At length, after a struggle for life, and a horror of death possibly unprecedented in the annals of crime, he was pushed upon the drop, the spring was touched, and the unhappy man passed shrieking into that eternity which he dreaded so much.
Farther on, out pushed a known voice. "Welcome, welcome, Doctor!" I looked, and that was Sancho. Luis Torres was in Spain. I had seen him in Cadiz. The crowd was thickening men came running there was cry and query. Suddenly rose a cheer. "The Admiral and the Adelantado in their little ships!" At once came a counter-shout. "The Genoese! The Traitors!"
I thought she must have stretched out her hand for this glass, and that in so doing she had pushed the glass against the bottle; but to my surprise I found her lying quite still, and fast asleep. The sound must have come from some other direction from the dressing-room, perhaps. I went into the dressing-room. There was no one there. No trace of the smallest disturbance among the things.
Our entrance was of the usual character, a cross between a triumphal procession and a circus show, people rushing to see the sight, children calling, dogs barking, my men shouting as they pushed their way through the throng, while I sat the observed of all, trying to carry off my embarrassment with a benevolent smile.
"Then you're in no state to sail the boat," replied Pete, "here, get away from the wheel!" He pushed the indignant Chief away, and taking the wheel himself, began to put the boat about. "Who's Simon?" asked Mr. Daddles. Nobody paid any attention to his question. "To think of forgetting him!" exclaimed Pete, "can you see anything of him, Warren?"
They were the first who fell in the 33d. "Steady, lads, steady," shouted the officers, and as regularly as if on field-day, the English troops advanced. The Rifles, under Major Northcote, were ahead, and, dashing through the vineyards under a rain of fire, crossed the river, scaled the bank, and pushed forward to the top of the next slope.
On the 19th, Warren pushed forward a portion of his force with a view to driving back the Boers' right and gaining the main road leading through Dewdrop to Ladysmith, while Woodgate's brigade watched Spion Kop. Fighting went on all day, the British forcing the enemy back step by step. On the 20th it began early and continued the whole day.
And the waters rose and pushed the litter before them and made one channel into the lower river, and then another and another and so, working through the hours of the day, the upper river scoured the stables clean and carried the refuse to the lower river.
Then Loki put his shoulder to the rock, and pushed with all his might. But it seemed as firm as the mountain, and would not be moved. "Help us, thou cunning dwarf," he cried "help us, and thou shalt have thy life!"