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Updated: May 13, 2025
But houses were never far between, and wherever there were houses, there was cane rum. It was so cheap it was often given away for a smile. Twice in the long months Shenton had eluded his watchful father, once by slipping his saddle-cloth and going back to pick it up, and once by riding ahead on a misty morning. Each time he stole back with hanging and drooping shoulders.
The great blunderbuss, moreover, was choked with a dollop of slough-cake; and John Fry's sad-coloured Sunday hat was indued with a plume of marish-weed. All this I saw while he was dismounting, heavily and wearily, lifting his leg from the saddle-cloth as if with a sore crick in his back.
The authorities display a demoniacal ingenuity in working the beer out of the system of the dragoon. The morning duty on the day following Christmas is invariably "watering order with numnahs," the numnah being a felt saddle-cloth without stirrups.
The Yankee an' one o' the servants ran up, and caught the horse by the head, but its rider didn't move he was stone dead, and was held in his seat by the spurs sticking in the saddle-cloth. The last bound must have ruptured some blood-vessel inside, for there was no sign of hurt upon him anywhere." "You don' say dat?" said the negro, with a look of horror.
That calm profile under the little three-cornered hat of the school of Brienne, that green uniform, the white revers concealing the star of the Legion of Honor, his great coat hiding his epaulets, the corner of red ribbon peeping from beneath his vest, his leather trousers, the white horse with the saddle-cloth of purple velvet bearing on the corners crowned N's and eagles, Hessian boots over silk stockings, silver spurs, the sword of Marengo, that whole figure of the last of the Caesars is present to all imaginations, saluted with acclamations by some, severely regarded by others.
"Yes, yes, but how do we know that there was any lead to speak of in the Demon's saddle-cloth?" "The Demon says there wasn't above a stone. Don't you, Demon?" "I don't know nothing! I'm not going to stand being clouted by the kitchen-maid." "Oh, shut up, or leave the room," said Mr. Leopold; "we don't want to hear any more about that." "I started making the running according to orders.
They went back to the horses, where they subjected Dolly to a rigid examination that disclosed nothing. Hoofs, legs, bit, mouth, body everything was as it should be. The saddle and saddle-cloth were innocent of bur or sticker; the back was smooth and unbroken. They searched for sign of snake-bite and sting of fly or insect, but found nothing.
Presently the old woman crawled, grunting, from the storeroom, dragging after her an old-fashioned saddle with broken stirrups, worn leather holsters, and saddle-cloth, once red, with gilt embroidery and copper disks. "Here's a stupid woman," thought Ivan Ivanovitch. "She'll be dragging Ivan Nikiforovitch out and airing him next." Ivan Ivanovitch was not so far wrong in his surmise.
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