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Updated: May 18, 2025
If any one had prophesied that I should be a stranger in Piccadilly, I should have laughed aloud. Yet I was. Walking moodily up Saint James's street I met the omniscient and expansive Renniker. He gave me a curt nod and a "How d'ye do?" and passed on. I felt savagely disposed to slash his jaunty silk hat off with my walking-stick.
At the end of the eighteenth century there were a couple of dozen men in Paris who began to talk about all men being free and equal. This caused people all over France to begin to slash at and drown one another. They killed the king and many other people. At that time there was in France a man of genius Napoleon.
And all about him on the quickening breeze, the spiders' airships, their air bundles and air sheets, seemed to him to hurry in a conscious pursuit. Clatter, clatter, thud, thud the man with the silver bridle rode, heedless of his direction, with his fearful face looking up now right, now left, and his sword arm ready to slash.
Like a true boy, the lad wanted to go to sea, despite his uncle's warning "that I think he had better be put apprentice to a tinker; for a common sailor before the mast has by no means the liberty of the subject; for they will press him from a ship where he has fifty shillings a month; and make him take twenty-three, and cut and slash, and use him like a negro, or rather like a dog."
Of course we at once threw everything overboard and loaded our wagon afresh with gold, as much of it as the blessed thing would carry or the oxen drag. And then what must that born idiot Van Raalte do but quarrel with one of the indunas about some trumpery thing, and slash the man across the face with his sjambok!
If you may not cut or slash a biscuit, what are you to do with it? Swallow it whole? "Private McNulty?" queries the Captain. Private McNulty, in a voice which is shrill with righteous indignation, gives the somewhat unexpected answer "Sirr, I plead guilty!" "Guilty eh? You did it, then?" "Yes, sir." "Why?" This is what Private McNulty is waiting for.
A couple of miles farther on creek and road entered the mouth of a wide spruce-timbered gulch. These trees hid any view of the slopes or floor of the gulch, and it was not till several more miles had been passed that the bandit rode out into what Joan first thought was a hideous slash in the forest made by fire. But it was only the devastation wrought by men.
"Let me see," he continued, running his eye along the border of the lake in search of his old landmarks: "there is the tall stub that stands half a mile down on the west bank of the river, and is now just visible in the edge of the smoke; but where is the king pine, that stands nearly against it, over in your slash?
"Can't I?" she said, her teeth still showing in that unpleasant way. "Can't I? Well if you don't get out of my way I'll show you what I'll do. Slash you across your lying face." Her arm was already uplifted, riding crop in hand. "Let me go!" Her voice was so low that he hardly heard it, but full of a thousand threats.
Already the next sea was curling over his head. He made a savage assault upon the rope. Slash! Slash! Twice his arm rose and fell. The billow was breaking down over him when he leaped erect and flung up his hand. "Pull!" yelled Jim. Just as the flood boiled over the ledge the chair and its senseless burden jerked away. Percy grasped the lashings and was towed along behind his father.
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