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Lynde, Francis, 1856-1930

"The Master of Appleby A Novel Tale Concerning Itself in Part with the Great Struggle in the Two Carolinas; but Chiefly with the Adventures Therein of Two Gentlemen Who Loved One and the Same Lady"


"Let be," he said; "'tis murder, if you like, but all war is that. When
old Eph's turn comes, they will kill him as relentlessly as he is
killing them."
By this time the British vanguard was storming ashore through the
shallows below the tree fringe which served as cover for Graham's men,
and the king's muskets, silent hitherto, began to roar and belch by
platoon and volley fire. Jennifer craned his neck and took a swift view
of the situation.
"By the Lord Harry!" he cried, "'tis high time Joe Graham was getting
his lads in order for a foot race. Once those fellows come ashore
they'll play hare and hounds with us to the king's taste. Keep your eye
on the nags, Jack. It may chance us to do what two men can to cover a
belated retreat."
We had tethered our horses in a thicket of scrub oak where they would be
out of bullet-reach until the enemy gained the bank. As I looked to make
sure of them, the sorrel gave a shrill neigh to welcome the pounding of
hoofs on the Appleby road. I made sure this would be General Davidson
bringing in the reserves; and so, indeed, it was; but he came too late.
O'Hara's men were already climbing the bank; and Joe Graham was rallying
his little company for flight in the face of an onset that made the tree
fringe sing with musket balls.
"'Tis our cue to run away!" Dick shouted, dragging me to my feet. "To
the horses!"
But now we were too late. Davidson's men were between us and the scrub
oak thicket, and we must wait till the column swept by.


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