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Updated: May 19, 2025
From which significant response, followed by an apt imitation of a turkey-gobbler, the boys understood that he had some device for obtaining poultry for dinner. It was a holiday, and I have said, and they had already got permission to go beyond the lines. There were some twenty of them in all, Frank included. Tucket led them to a thicket about two miles from camp, where they halted.
Tucket muttered and spat, then broke forth again, "I be darned ef that pesky football didn't take me right in the face, and spatter my mouth full of taller." "Well, save the taller, Seth, for we're getting short of candles," said Frank. "Here, who is walking on my feet?" "It's me," said Atwater. "I'm going out to see who threw that thing in." "You're too late," said Frank.
Spurring is good meat, but yet it killed the charger. Bustle, boys!" By this time the tucket was sounding cheerily in the morning, and from all sides Sir Daniel's men poured into the main street and formed before the inn. They had slept upon their arms, with chargers saddled, and in ten minutes five-score men-at-arms and archers, cleanly equipped and briskly disciplined, stood ranked and ready.
"I had heard a noise so much like one," laughing, "that he himself, when he heard it, was ready to swear it was his gobbler." "And was it really a turkey?" "No, sir. It was Seth Tucket hid behind the bushes." Frank was now conscious of making abundant fun for his comrades, who all crowded around, listening with delight to the investigation.
He had not the courage to say, "Boys, I feel that I have been doing wrong, and I mean to stop at once;" but he thought it more manly to play once more, if only to show that he was not afraid of losing. "And perhaps," he thought, remembering his former luck, "I shall win." Play again he did accordingly; and, sure enough, he won. He brought Tucket to his last dime.
"What name, sir?" he purred over my card, as I lingered in the vestibule for a moment to scan the ball-room and my field of action: then, having cleared his throat, bawled suddenly, "Mr. Ducie!" It might have been a stage direction. "A tucket sounds. Enter the Vicomte, disguised." To tell the truth, this entry was a daunting business.
Frank borrowed a quarter, and lost it immediately. He borrowed again, determined to play more carefully. He waited until he had an excellent hand, then staked his money. Tucket and Ellis did not play; and the game was between Frank and Harris. Both were confident, and they kept doubling their stakes, Frank borrowing again and again of Seth for the purpose.
The provost's litter, too, came up alongside the duke's horse in the open space, then they all moved forward at the slow processional: three steps and a halt for the trumpets to blow a tucket; three more and another tucket; the great yellow horse stepping high and casting up his head, from which flew many flakes of white foam.
Instantly, without the church, a tucket sounded shrill, and through the open portal archers and men-at-arms, uniformly arrayed in the colours and wearing the badge of Lord Risingham, began to file into the church, took Dick and Lawless from those who still detained them, and, closing their files about the prisoners, marched forth again and disappeared.
"Some think the flag has been hauled down, to surrender the fort, but it's a mistake," declares Gray. "See! up it goes again on a piece of the pole! And the guns are at it again." "Where's Burnside?" asks some one. And Tucket quotes, "'O, where was Roderick then? One blast upon his bugle horn were worth a thousand men!" "He is sending off a boat to the shore yonder, to look for a landing-place.
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