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Updated: May 28, 2025
Standing fair in the midst of the ax-and-shovel havoc and clearing a wide circle to right and left with the sweep of his old service cavalry saber, was the Major, coatless, hatless, cursing the invaders with mighty and corrosive soldier oaths, and crying them to come on, the unnumbered host of them against one man.
Desmond is rather in despair, because he is afraid his beauty is spoiled; for the doctor says that cut on his forehead is likely to leave a nasty scar. He would not have minded it if it had been done by a French dragoon saber; but to have got it from tumbling down a chimney troubles him sorely.
And, dangling from his right wrist, by the leather sword-knot, hung the saber which Colonel Hardwicke had swung in the mad onslaught on the mutineers' camp at Lucknow. "Here, Simpson! Send for Doctor McMorris!" cried Hardwicke, as a dozen willing hands sprang to aid him. "Bring brandy, ammonia, and oil!" There was a bamboo settee on the veranda.
The adjutant then commands: 1. At the command posts, all, except the officer commanding the guard, face about. At the command MARCH, they take the posts presented in the school of the company with open ranks. The adjutant directs: Inspect your guard, sir; at which the officer commanding the guard faces about, commands: Prepare for inspection, returns saber and inspects the guard.
"Why did you quit the service?" resumed the First Consul, who appeared to take great interest in the conversation. "My faith, General, each one in his turn, and there are saber strokes enough for every one. "Have you any children?" "I have three, General, two boys and a girl." "You must make a soldier of the oldest. If he will conduct himself well, I will take care of him. Adieu, my brave man.
The two men stood there, face to face, hands clasped, the one fair-skinned, full-lipped, handsome in his neat sult; the other tragic, somber in his softened mood, his large, long, rugged Scotch face bronzed with sun and scarred with wrinkles that had histories, like saber cuts on a veteran, the record of his battles.
He smartly swung his saber to his shoulder, ordering, "Come on!" Gertie edged forward, perplexedly sucking a finger-joint, and followed him along Lake Street toward open country. They took to the Minnesota & Dakota railroad track, a natural footpath in a land where the trains were few and not fast, as was the condition of the single-tracked M. & D. of 1893.
But I didn't have an appropriate character, so Wylie loaned me one of his, the Black Jedi Kynan Ardais. He explained the game saber, then handed me a real one and let me try it out. When I went to return it, he told me it was mine, a thanks-gift from the warrior Leigh."
"Ah, count, that was never to be referred to. Be content with my brain and sword. And then, there is the old saying, Give a man an ell, and look to your rod. We are all either jackals or lions, puppets or men behind the booth. I am a lion." He rose, drew his saber half-way from the scabbard, and sent it slithering back.
So I go about flashing my saber of independence: "Ol' Ephr'm Johnson was a deacon of de church in Tennessee, An' of course it was ag'inst de rules t' sing ragtime melodée!" But I am the one, I notice, who always makes up first. To-night as I was making cocoa before we went to bed I tried to tell my Diddums there was something positively doglike in my devotion to him.
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