His luck had held to the
last, even to the crowning mercy of a kindly bullet through his head.
last, even to the crowning mercy of a kindly bullet through his head.
Kipling - Poems
Gradually
the scattered white cloudlets drew out into the long lines of banked
white that hung heavily in the stillness of the dawn before they turned
over wave-like and glided into the valleys. The soldiers in the square
were coughing and swearing as their own smoke obstructed their view, and
they edged forward to get beyond it. A wounded camel leaped to its feet
and roared aloud, the cry ending in a bubbling grunt. Some one had
cut its throat to prevent confusion. Then came the thick sob of a
man receiving his death-wound from a bullet; then a yell of agony and
redoubled firing.
There was no time to ask any questions.
"Get down, man! Get down behind the camel! "
"No. Put me, I pray, in the forefront of the battle. " Dick turned his
face to Torpenhow and raised his hand to set his helmet straight, but,
miscalculating the distance, knocked it off. Torpenhow saw that his hair
was gray on the temples, and that his face was the face of an old man.
"Come down, you damned fool! Dickie, come off! "
And Dick came obediently, but as a tree falls, pitching sideways from
the Bisharin's saddle at Torpenhow's feet.
His luck had held to the
last, even to the crowning mercy of a kindly bullet through his head.
Torpenhow knelt under the lee of the camel, with Dick's body in his
arms.
THE END
VOLUME VII THE STORY OF THE GADSBYS
Preface
To THE ADDRESS OF
CAPTAIN J. MAFFLIN,
Duke of Derry's (Pink) Hussars.
DEAR MAFFLIN,--You will remember that I wrote this story as an Awful
Warning. None the less you have seen fit to disregard it and have
followed Gadsby's example--as I betted you would. I acknowledge that you
paid the money at once, but you have prejudiced the mind of Mrs. Mafflin
against myself, for though I am almost the only respectable friend
of your bachelor days, she has been darwaza band to me throughout the
season. Further, she caused you to invite me to dinner at the Club,
where you called me "a wild ass of the desert," and went home
at half-past ten, after discoursing for twenty minutes on the
responsibilities of housekeeping. You now drive a mail-phaeton and sit
under a Church of England clergyman. I am not angry, Jack. It is your
kismet, as it was Gaddy's, and his kismet who can avoid? Do not think
that I am moved by a spirit of revenge as I write, thus publicly, that
you and you alone are responsible for this book. In other and more
expansive days, when you could look at a magnum without flushing and
at a cheroot without turning white, you supplied me with most of the
material. Take it back again--would that I could have preserved your
fetterless speech in the telling--take it back, and by your slippered
hearth read it to the late Miss Deercourt. She will not be any the more
willing to receive my cards, but she will admire you immensely, and you,
I feel sure, will love me.
the scattered white cloudlets drew out into the long lines of banked
white that hung heavily in the stillness of the dawn before they turned
over wave-like and glided into the valleys. The soldiers in the square
were coughing and swearing as their own smoke obstructed their view, and
they edged forward to get beyond it. A wounded camel leaped to its feet
and roared aloud, the cry ending in a bubbling grunt. Some one had
cut its throat to prevent confusion. Then came the thick sob of a
man receiving his death-wound from a bullet; then a yell of agony and
redoubled firing.
There was no time to ask any questions.
"Get down, man! Get down behind the camel! "
"No. Put me, I pray, in the forefront of the battle. " Dick turned his
face to Torpenhow and raised his hand to set his helmet straight, but,
miscalculating the distance, knocked it off. Torpenhow saw that his hair
was gray on the temples, and that his face was the face of an old man.
"Come down, you damned fool! Dickie, come off! "
And Dick came obediently, but as a tree falls, pitching sideways from
the Bisharin's saddle at Torpenhow's feet.
His luck had held to the
last, even to the crowning mercy of a kindly bullet through his head.
Torpenhow knelt under the lee of the camel, with Dick's body in his
arms.
THE END
VOLUME VII THE STORY OF THE GADSBYS
Preface
To THE ADDRESS OF
CAPTAIN J. MAFFLIN,
Duke of Derry's (Pink) Hussars.
DEAR MAFFLIN,--You will remember that I wrote this story as an Awful
Warning. None the less you have seen fit to disregard it and have
followed Gadsby's example--as I betted you would. I acknowledge that you
paid the money at once, but you have prejudiced the mind of Mrs. Mafflin
against myself, for though I am almost the only respectable friend
of your bachelor days, she has been darwaza band to me throughout the
season. Further, she caused you to invite me to dinner at the Club,
where you called me "a wild ass of the desert," and went home
at half-past ten, after discoursing for twenty minutes on the
responsibilities of housekeeping. You now drive a mail-phaeton and sit
under a Church of England clergyman. I am not angry, Jack. It is your
kismet, as it was Gaddy's, and his kismet who can avoid? Do not think
that I am moved by a spirit of revenge as I write, thus publicly, that
you and you alone are responsible for this book. In other and more
expansive days, when you could look at a magnum without flushing and
at a cheroot without turning white, you supplied me with most of the
material. Take it back again--would that I could have preserved your
fetterless speech in the telling--take it back, and by your slippered
hearth read it to the late Miss Deercourt. She will not be any the more
willing to receive my cards, but she will admire you immensely, and you,
I feel sure, will love me.
