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Updated: July 1, 2025
Said Spissimen was now staring hungrily out of the Colonel's bunk, holding towards Mac an appealing hand, with half a yard of shirt-sleeve falling over it. Mac pretended not to see, and drew up to the table the one remaining available thing to sit on, his back to his patient.
He is a shirt-sleeve diplomatist who, if he thought the occasion warranted it, would not hesitate to conduct diplomatic negotiations in his night-shirt.
When the figure was drawn, and all the mysterious signs completed, the shirt-sleeve prophet became absorbed in an intricate calculation of such mysterious import that all his customer’s mathematical proficiency was unable to make out what it was all about.
"Twas a bad leg allowed me to read the Pilgrim's Progress, and Mark Clark learnt All-Fours in a whitlow." "Ay, and my father put his arm out of joint to have time to go courting," said Jan Coggan, in an eclipsing tone, wiping his face with his shirt-sleeve and thrusting back his hat upon the nape of his neck.
"Would you mind taking off your coat?" he inquired. The young man removed his coat, uncovering a small spatter of blood on a shirt-sleeve. "There's no use going any farther with this," said the young man, impatiently. "Come on home with me, and I'll go back with you in the morning and prove my innocence." The two mounted their horses and rode a long way in silence.
Rolling back his left shirt-sleeve he revealed a wicked-looking wound in the fleshy part of the forearm. It was quite healed, but curiously striated for an inch or so around. "Ever seen one like it?" he asked. "Not exactly," I confessed. "It appears to have been deeply cauterized." "Right! Very deeply!" he rapped. "A barb steeped in the venom of a hamadryad went in there!"
Side by side, like a fair-haired youth with his swarthy bride, the coal and potato were placed; and P , poising for the second time the precious parcel, rolled up his shirt-sleeve, and, throwing himself well back, hurled, with all the elegance of a Parthian, coal, potato, and parcel toward the Norwegian captain's head.
The precaution that he had taken to place himself behind the chair was wise. The blood, in squirting in front and on each side, had not reached him; only the hand that held the knife and the shirt-sleeve were splashed, but this was of no consequence.
There they were, a group of Uhlans standing near two men who stood facing each other, jackets off, shirts open to the throat. The two men were Rickerl and Von Steyr. Rickerl rolled up his white shirt-sleeve and tucked the cuff into the folds, his naked sabre under his arm. Von Steyr, in shirt, riding-breeches, and boots, stood with one leg crossed before the other, leaning on his bared sabre.
"Just the same, you can't hog it," a voice went up. "We don't want lots. We want to relocate." "But there are only two disputed claims," Smoke argued. "When they're relocated where will the rest of you be?" He mopped his forehead with his shirt-sleeve, and another voice cried out: "Let us all in, share and share alike!"
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