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Updated: June 29, 2025
He would have fought to his death then and there if I had given him the word. He was game to the core when once his blood was up, the same old D'ri. "Don't fight," I said. He had cocked the pistol, and stood braced, the sword in his right hand. I noticed a little quiver in the great sinews of his wrist.
At eleven o'clock Captain Hawkins sent out inquiries for the sergeant of the guard and his relief. He could find nobody who had seen them since dark. A corporal was also missing. The captain sent a man to look for them. He got as far as D'ri and sat down. They waited for him in vain. The captain stood looking into the darkness and wondering about his men. He conferred with Adjutant Church.
"We was th' ones 'at got spit on," said a gunner, looking at D'ri. "Wish they'd let us holler back," said the latter, placidly. "Sick o' holdin' in." We kept fanning down upon the enemy, now little more than a mile away, signalling the fleet to follow. "My God! see there!" a gunner shouted.
"Don't hev to," said D'ri, calmly. He cut a deep slash in the stick he held, then added: "Don't make no odds ner no diff'rence one way er t' other. I did n't like th' measles, but I hed t' hev 'em." "He'll never permit a marriage with me," I said. "'T ain't nec'sary," he declared soberly. "In this 'ere country don' tek only tew t' mek a bargain. One o' the blessin's o' liberty."
The women were washing the dishes; my father had gone to the spring for water. D'ri pulled up suddenly, lifted his hat of faded felt, and listened, peering into the dusk. "Seems t' me them wolves is comin' nearer," he said thoughtfully. Their cries were echoing in the far timber. We all rose and listened. In a moment my father came hurrying back with his pail of water.
"Fer liberty," said he, with decision. "Same thing my father died fer." Not to this day have I forgotten it, the answer of old D'ri, or the look of him as he spoke. I was only a reckless youth fighting for the love of peril and adventure, and with too little thought of the high purposes of my country. The causes of the war were familiar to me; that proclamation of Mr.
He laughed, he clapped his hands, he shed tears of enthusiasm; then he rang a bell, "The M'sieur D'ri bring him here," said he to a servant. D'ri came soon with a worried look, his trousers caught on his boot-tops, an old felt hat in his hand. Somehow he and his hat were as king and coronal in their mutual fitness; if he lost one, he swapped for another of about the same shade and shape.
D'ri sat, his brows lifted, his hands in his pockets, his legs crossed. He looked curiously from one to another. "Horton," said his Lordship, as he sat down, leaning lazily on the arm of his chair, "will you have them bring down the prisoners?" The servant left the room. Some of the men were talking together in low tones; they were mostly good-looking and well dressed.
My horse took alarm and pulled away, running into a thicket. I turned to catch him. "Judas Priest!" said D'ri. There, within ten feet of us, I saw what made me, ever after, a more prudent man. It was an English officer leaning on his sword, a tall and handsome fellow of some forty years, in shiny top-hoots and scarlet blouse and gauntlets of brown kid.
Judas Priest! thought he wus drownded, sart'n. Seemed so I 'd bust out 'n' cry there 'n th' water waitin' fer thet air boy. Soon es I hearn a flop I hed my han's on 'im. "'Who be you? says he. "'D'ri, says I. "'Tired out, says he; 'can't swim a stroke. Guess I 'll hev t' go t' th' bottom." D'ri's narrative was the talk of the garrison.
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