This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1893 Excerpt: ... at ease. That is to say, they were running, jumping and stamping to keep their feet warm. Finally some daredevil had discovered that infernal grating, and nothing would do him but he must run across its range, as a boy might run across the danger-space in the game that we call barres in France--you call it prisoner's ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1893 Excerpt: ... at ease. That is to say, they were running, jumping and stamping to keep their feet warm. Finally some daredevil had discovered that infernal grating, and nothing would do him but he must run across its range, as a boy might run across the danger-space in the game that we call barres in France--you call it prisoner's base, I think. This struck some of the others as a most amusing sport, and the more fleet-footed kept it up for a while, without drawing the enemy's fire. Then there came along a little fat, round baker, named Malet, who was generally called the Bun, on account of his shape. They dared the Bun to make the trial; and, of course, he did it, with a funny little trot that made the men laugh. He had got nearly out of range, when a flash of fire shot from the grating, and Malet went over on his back with a kick and a howl, throwing his own gun over his head. It struck a stone and went off. Its muzzle pointed almost straight at the grating. We conjectured that it hit somebody, for an exclamation came from the cellar, but whether of rage or pain we could not make out. Malet crawled and rolled out of danger. He was wounded in his thigh; but not badly. When I had reformed our lines and left Malet in the surgeon's hands, I returned to the cottage for a council of war, and found Berthine still standing in the doorway, looking at the picturesque scene--the soldiers, the snow, the great fires, the gleaming arms--with the indifferent curiosity of a well-fed cow. "'Well, my girl, ' I said, 'this is a pretty piece of business. You got your men in the cellar; but how are we to get them out?' "She answered me in her matter-of-fact way: "'They drank up all our cider last night, why don't you give them a drink of water now?' "' What do you mean?...
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