Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 23, 2025
"It is not easy to kill a man with a single blow of a clubbed rifle," observed Clayley; "unless, indeed, the lock may have struck into his skull. But we are still living, and I think that is some evidence that the deserter is dead. By the way, how has the fellow obtained such influence as he appeared to have among them, and so soon, too?"
Suddenly letting go, he threw up his hands, and inquired with a look of anxiety: "Y el senor gordo?" "Oh! he's all right," replied Clayley, with a laugh; "he has saved his bacon, Don Cosme; though I imagine about this time he wouldn't object to a little of yours." I translated my companion's answer.
"Yes, master; he has been up for hours." "Ha! where is he?" "In the garden, master." "Alone?" "No, master; he is with the ninas." "Happy, light-hearted Clayley! No jealous thoughts to torture him!" mused I, as I buckled on my stock.
"The plague!" exclaimed Clayley; "do they expect us to lick this up without either hands, spoons, or knives?" "Won't you allow us the use of our fingers?" asked Raoul, speaking to one of the guerilleros. "No," replied the man gruffly. "How do you expect us to eat, then?" "With your mouths, as brutes should. What else?" "Thank you, sir; you are very polite."
The vaqueros did not halt at the corral, as we expected, but kept across the prairie, and disappeared among the trees on the opposite side. "What the deuce has got into Blossom?" inquired Clayley; "he was clearly gaining upon them. The old bloat must have burst a blood-vessel." "Why, what was the matter, Major?" inquired I, as the major rode up blowing like a porpoise.
Something's in the wind." So saying, the speaker rolled himself on his breast, bringing his head to the dish. "Och! the mane haythins!" cried Chane, following the example set by his comrade; "to make dacent men ate like brute bastes! Och! murder an' ouns!" "Come, Captain; shall we feed?" asked Clayley. "Go on. Do not wait for me," I replied. Now was my time to read the note.
In the act I had staked my liberty. It was an oath. "These are my rivals the candidates for office," thought I, looking at a group who stood near the table. They were men of better appearance than the hoi polloi. Some of them already affected a half-undress uniform, and most wore forage-caps with glazed covers, and army buttons over the ears. "Ha! Clayley!" said I, recognising an old acquaintance.
One day Clayley and I were sitting over our wine, along with a gay party of friends, in the Fonda de Diligencias, the principal hotel of Jalapa, when Jack touched me on the shoulder, and whispered in my ear: "Captain, there's a Mexican wants to see ye." "Who is it?" I demanded, somewhat annoyed at the interruption. "It's the brother," replied Jack, still speaking in a whisper. "The brother!
"We may not get in before noon to-morrow. Say nothing of my absence to anyone. I shall make my report at noon tomorrow." "And, Captain " said Clayley. "Well, Clayley?" "You will carry back my ." "What? To which friend?" "Of course, to Mary of the Light." "Oh, certainly!" "In your best Spanish." "Rest assured," said I, smiling at the earnestness of my friend.
With these feelings, Clayley and I were anxious to do something that might cover our late folly, and win our way back to favour at head-quarters. "Let me take fifty of your men and try this. You know, Major Twing, I have a score to rub out." "I cannot, Captain I cannot. We must on. Forward!" And the next moment we were moving at a trot in the direction of El Plan.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking