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Then he made the final arrangements for Olaf to carry him to Seward in the Norden, for Captain Rifle's ship was well on her way to Unalaska. Thought of Captain Rifle urged him to write another letter in which he told briefly the disappointing details of his search. He was rather surprised the next morning to find he had entirely forgotten Rossland.
I crouched as low as possible, whilst F settled himself comfortably flat on his stomach, and prepared to take a careful aim at the opposite side of the hill. After what seemed a long time, he pulled his rifle's trigger, and the flash and crack was followed apparently by one of the gray boulders opposite leaping up, and then rolling heavily down the hill.
At the same moment several companions of the bird rose trumpeting into the air amid a cloud of other birds. Again the rifle's crack was heard, and one of the geese on the wing dropped beside its comrade. As Leo carried his repeating rifle, he might easily have shot another, but he refrained, as the bird would have been too far out to be easily picked up.
"My rifle's jammed!" he cried. "Take mine." And I stooped to get one from a casualty underfoot. But a moment later, as I fired from the parapet, my bayonet was broken off by a German bullet. I shouted wildly to Cosh to toss me one from near by. Just then the main body of the Germans swarmed into the end of the trench.
After the first shock Doctor Marston reacted swiftly. He bent over Rossland, and in that moment, when his back was toward them, Captain Rifle's eyes met Alan's. The same thought and in another instant disbelief flashed from one to the other. Marston was speaking, professionally cool now. "A knife stab, close to the right lung, if not in it. And an ugly bruise over his eye. He is not dead.
"I've never been my own man again" said Mat, "since you and me wished each other good-bye on the sandhills. The lonesome places have got strange to me and my rifle's heavier in hand than ever I knew it before. There's some part of myself that seems left behind like, between Mary's grave and Mary's child. Must I cross the seas again to find it?
But every dream ended with the thought of a wild chestnut running into the circle of his rifle's sights, leaping into the air at the report of his gun, and dropping inert on the grass. What wonder, then, that when he wakened he thought of Marianne Jordan with mixed emotions? Perhaps the really important point was that he thought of her so much, whether for good or evil.
They're all awaiting us, it is said; the whole crew Johnson's Greens, Butler's Rangers, McDonald's painted Tories, Brant's Mohawks and the Senecas with their war-chiefs and their sorcerer, Amochol truly a motley devil's brood, Lana; and I pray only that one of Morgan's men may sight Walter Butler or Sir John over his rifle's end."
Suddenly the trunk gave a plunge and again began to float across the stream towards our bank. 'Only not to miss ... thought he, and now by the faint light of the moon he caught a glimpse of a Tartar's head in front of the floating wood. He aimed straight at the head which appeared to be quite near just at the end of his rifle's barrel. He glanced cross.
There was so much recalling to be done, so much remembering needed, and reviewing of statistics concerning the flora and the fauna of the far East, that when at last the rifle's cry rang out on the still night air, which, as we had learned, in India carries sound to a much greater distance than in our cold, Northern climes; when the mighty Bengal reeled and fell dying, and Sister Flora sprang from her hiding place on the roof to sing a hymn of praise; when all this had been told, Luther Warden banged the book shut, arose, and looked at the clock.
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