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"Sometimes I'm afraid of him," said Braxton Wyatt. The face of Timmendiquas was most expressive. When he spoke of their defeats his eyes were sad, his features drooped, and his voice took on a wailing tone. But now he changed suddenly.
Braxton, calling loudly for water to extinguish it, and meeting no response, descended to the ground floor, where the defenders were about to give up all hope, and either resign themselves to the flames, or by emerging from the house, submit to massacre at the hands of the now infuriated foe. As Mrs.
A few days later Major Johnson's Lexington Chronicle, under the heading "Jarvis Braxton," contained the following: "Colonel William Jarvis, the distinguisbed and genial young turfman, and Miss Susan Braxton, the beautiful and accomplished daughter of General Thomas Anderson Braxton, the hero of two wars, whose name is a household word wherever valor is honored and eloquence is admired, were united in marriage Monday night.
Something cold and cruel about the Spaniard repelled him, and he believed, too, that Braxton Wyatt had not been without a sinister influence. Alvarez arose and walked over to his camp-fire. Braxton Wyatt followed him and whispered rapidly to the Spaniard. Paul, persistent and always hopeful, was putting down his anger and trying to think of other effective words that he might use.
He had seen so much of death and torture done on the border that he could not understand how Simon Girty, Braxton Wyatt and their like could do such deeds upon their own countrymen. But he felt that the day was coming fast when many of them would be punished.
"He will go, whether willingly or unwillingly," said Braxton Wyatt. "I've men enough here to drag him." "I will go willingly, Jim," said Henry addressing himself to his comrade rather than to the renegade. "It cannot do any harm, and it may help." "Yes, it is wiser," said Paul. "So long, boys," said Henry. "I'll be back pretty soon."
Foster-Dugdale's not less famous garden parties in Greville Place, would have supposed off-hand that the pair had a single point in common. Dapper little Maltby blond, bland, diminutive Maltby, with his monocle and his gardenia; big black Braxton, with his lanky hair and his square blue jaw and his square sallow forehead. Canary and crow. Maltby had a perpetual chirrup of amusing small-talk.
The face of the well-fed Colonel flushed an apoplectic purple, and Braxton Wyatt thrust his hand to the butt of the pistol in his belt, but Girty, inured to everything, laughed and said: "Don't take it so hard, young man." "Then tell us who you are!" exclaimed Colonel de Peyster angrily. Now it was Timmendiquas who replied. "He is my prisoner," he said.
They had been preceded already by Braxton Wyatt, who had hung back craftily while the Iroquois broke down the door. The five made no attempt to pursue. In fact, they did not leave the cabin, but stood there a while, looking down at the fallen, hideous with war paint, but now at the end of their last trail.
As they pulled up, the young minister came forward and was introduced by the Colonel as "My cousin, Jim Bradley." While they were both assisting Miss Braxton to dismount and fastening the horses, the Colonel, in a few words, told of the pursuit and of the necessity of haste. Mr. Bradley led the way into the church, the lovers following arm in arm.
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