“Forget all that, please, Amos. I’m straining my eyes through this glass in hopes of picking up some sign of land ahead beyond that island yonder; or perhaps seeing the smudge of smoke from the Allies’ battleships on the hazy horizon. Here, take a look, and let me know if you can make out anything.”
Fear seized the Persian host, no longer tricked
the fortunes of a young girl who had been lured away to America. Perhaps she was one of those "white slaves" to which I noticed a good many references in Italy, and in other of the emigrant countries. At any rate, she was imprisoned in a very dark and dismal place in some part of New York which I was not able to locate from the picture. Then her brother, or perhaps it was her lover, whom she had left behind in Sicily, saw a vision. It was a vision of St. George and the dragon, and after seeing this vision he rose up and went to America and rescued her. The touching thing about it all, the thing that showed how realistic this whole tale was to the crowd that stood and listened to it in rapt attention, was that when the story reached the point where the picture of St. George and the dragon is referred to, the men simultaneously raised their hats. At the same time the speaker assumed a more solemn tone, and the crowd listened with a reverential awe while he went on to relate the miracle by which the young woman had been saved.
"Oh! you're sure to have that," she said lightly.
The drone from Jodrell Bank began again: "Herrell McCray, Herrell McCray, Herrell McCray, this is Jodrell Bank responding—"
"'Tis a good song, well sung," said the Colonel, smiling at my heat; "but how comes it a lad with such a backing behind him is content with a long robe and a book, instead of dancing in blue coat and gaiters to the rat-tat-tat of the drum?"
“That’s so,” said Miss Marvell briefly.
The widder leened back and fanned hersilf carelissly.
Two men had died in the engagement: Yoritomo the paper-maker and Sannosuke the carpenter's son. Felix's thigh-bone had been broken by Nef's shot; and Colonel Nef's right wrist would require attention. A medical officer had been sent for from the Barracks to set Felix's leg. The dead men were carried on litters up to the shelves and around the fallen Daibutsu to the village. Hartford splinted his friend's broken leg. "What now, Hartford?" Felix asked.
and rise again, on the shore of Gallipoli; but I am sorry to say I have not myself seen him. I made inquiries only yesterday and one of my men, who has been at the camp of the New Zealanders a mile or more above us, told me he had seen and talked with the birdman. So I understand that he is taking advantage of the protection they are able to give him. The ground must differ radically from what we have here, because outside of one little exposed plateau there is absolutely no place an aeroplane could make a run to get a start when about to rise.”
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