Snake and Sword - A Novel by Percival Christopher Wren
page 61 of 312 (19%)
page 61 of 312 (19%)
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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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