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The Great Shadow and Other Napoleonic Tales by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
page 121 of 167 (72%)
His eye fell on a lance beside a dead Frenchman, so he swerved his horse
to let the other pass, and hopping off cleverly enough, he gripped hold
of it. But the other was too tricky for him, and was on him like a
shot. The dragoon thrust up with the lance, but the other turned it,
and sliced him through the shoulder-blade. It was all done in an
instant, and the Frenchman cantering his horse up the brae, showing his
teeth at us over his shoulder like a snarling dog.

That was one to them, but we scored one for us presently. They had
pushed forward a skirmish line, whose fire was towards the batteries on
our right and left rather than on us; but we sent out two companies of
the 95th to keep them in check. It was strange to hear the crackling
kind of noise that they made, for both sides were using the rifle.
An officer stood among the French skirmishers--a tall, lean man with a
mantle over his shoulders--and as our fellows came forward he ran out
midway between the two parties and stood as a fencer would, with his
sword up and his head back. I can see him now, with his lowered eyelids
and the kind of sneer that he had upon his face. On this the subaltern
of the Rifles, who was a fine well-grown lad, ran forward and drove full
tilt at him with one of the queer crooked swords that the rifle-men
carry. They came together like two rams--for each ran for the other--
and down they tumbled at the shock, but the Frenchman was below.
Our man broke his sword short off, and took the other's blade through
his left arm; but he was the stronger man, and he managed to let the
life out of his enemy with the jagged stump of his blade. I thought
that the French skirmishers would have shot him down, but not a trigger
was drawn, and he got back to his company with one sword through his arm
and half of another in his hand.


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