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Your friend has gassed some about a man named Silverthorn bein' at the bottom of this thing. Mebbe he is I ain't got no means of knowin'. It appears to me that Bill ain't got no call to hog your whole bunch, though, for I've never knowed Bill to raise more than fifteen hundred head of cattle in one season. I'm takin' a chance on two hundred coverin' his claims."
"Put it mostly on that war experience he went through, Perk they say once a man was gassed pretty badly over there, he'd always prove to be a queer fish changeable, nervous and apt to do all manner of strange things."
Courtney Thane's fame had preceded him to Windomville. By this time, the entire district had heard of the man who was gassed, and who had actually won two or three medals for bravery in the Great War. The young men from that section of the state who had seen fighting in France were still in New York City, looking for jobs. Most of them had "joined up" at the first call for volunteers.
Twenty-four died from the poison, and in all sixty-two others of the Company went to Hospital. Most of these found their way to England, though one or two, such as Serjt. Needham and L/Cpl. Tookey, both fighting men, preferred to remain and return to us. "D" Company also had their losses, and Serjeant Sullivan and nine others were gassed, ten others wounded.
Pierce tried to let this one go, too, but ain't you took a look at his hocks! Then along comes Dean Duke, the ratty old foreman in Pierce's stable, and he don't ogle a bit, either, like you'd expect one of his debased calibre to, but just stops and talks this horse over with 'em and says yes, it was his bad hocks that lost the sale, and he tells 'em how he had told Pierce just what to do to get him shaped up for a quick sale, but Pierce wouldn't listen to him, thinking he knew it all himself; and there the four stood and gassed about this horse without even seeing Beryl Mae, let alone leering at her.
From a couple of sentries that had been left at the lock by their regiments when they marched into action, we were informed that a few of our men who were slightly "gassed" had gone back to the transports. I made my way back, leaving the guard on the bridge. At the transport headquarters I found some thirty-five men who had been partially gassed. They were sent back to the headquarters trenches.
He was already, during his second year at Cambridge, casting about as to the best way to penetrate, swiftly and securely, the fastnesses of London journalism. The reality did him some good, but not very much, because when he had been in France only a fortnight he was gassed and sent home with a weak heart.
The Germans had "gassed" them twice, but the wind was too high and it blew the deadly fumes over the parapets. The men waited till the Germans emerged from their trenches three or four deep to charge. Then our whistles blew, and hundreds of them were cut down and piled on top of each other before they broke and ran back to their trenches. One machine gun got about 200 of them.
The Chicksands' household believed it for twenty-four hours. Then he was discovered gassed and stunned in a shell-hole, and there had been a long illness and convalescence. During the twenty-four hours when he was believed to be dead, Pamela had spent the April daylight in the depths of the Mannering woods, in tangled hiding-places that only she knew. It was in the Easter holidays.
Almost immediately they were up to mischief. Having scrounged a tin of pork and beans they wanted to cook it. And cook it they did, despite orders re lights. For twenty minutes the "maconichie" boiled, and they then blew out the smouldering grease-saturated rag. The carriage was fitted with FASTENED windows and a icor of smouldering candle-rag with no outlet! The occupants were literally gassed.
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