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Snake and Sword - A Novel by Percival Christopher Wren
page 61 of 312 (19%)
Continuing for a mile or so, at a walk, he entered a dense coppice and
dismounted.

"Await me," he said to his follower, gave him the curb-rein, and
walked on to an open glade a hundred yards away.

(It was a perfect spot for Red Indians, Smugglers, Robin Hood,
Robinson Crusoe or any such game, the boy noted.)

Almost at the same time, three other men entered the clearing, two
together, and one from a different quarter.

"For the hundredth time, Seymour, lad, _mention not the hilt-thrust_,
as you love me and the King," said this last one quietly as he
approached the gentleman; and then the two couples behaved in a
ridiculous manner with their befeathered hats, waving them in great
circles as they bowed to each other, and finally laying them on their
hearts before replacing them.

"Mine honour is my guide, Will," answered the gentleman called
Seymour, somewhat pompously the boy considered, though he did not know
the word.

Sir Seymour then began to remove the slashed coat and other garments
until he stood in his silk stockings, baggy knickerbockers, and jolly
cambric shirt--nice and loose and free at the neck as the boy thought.

He rolled up his right sleeve, drew the sword, and made one or two
passes--like Sergeant Havlan always did before he began fencing.

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