|
The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from Child of Storm by H. Rider Haggard: suppose it was a thrown kerry--after which I remember nothing for a
while, except a sensation of passing through the air.
I came to myself again, and found that I was still on the horse, which
was ambling forward across the veld at a rate of about eight miles an
hour, and that Scowl was clinging to my stirrup leather and running at
my side. He was covered with blood, so was the horse, and so was I. It
may have been our own blood, for all three were more or less wounded, or
it may have been that of others; I am sure I do not know, but we were a
terrible sight. I pulled upon the reins, and the horse stopped among
some thorns. Scowl felt in the saddlebags and found a large flask of
Hollands gin and water--half gin and half water--which he had placed
Child of Storm |
