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Buchan, John, 1875-1940

"The Half-Hearted"

Then a bullet did what all his knocking had failed to do,
for it crashed into the woodwork and woke the garrison. He heard feet
hurrying across a yard, and then it seemed to him that men were
reconnoitring from the top of the wall. A second later--when the third
bullet had buried itself in dust a foot beyond his head--the heavy gate
was half opened and a man's hand assisted him to crawl inside.
He looked up to see a tall figure in pyjamas standing over him. "Now I
wonder who the deuce you are?" it was saying.
"My name's Haystoun. H-a-y-s;" then he broke off and laughed. He had
fallen into his old trick of spelling his name to the Oxford tradesmen
when he was young and hated to have it garbled.
He looked up at the questioner again. "Bless me, Andy, so it's you."
The man gave a yell of delight. "Lewis, upon my soul. Who'd have
thought it? It is a Providence. By Gad, I believe I'm just in time to
save your life."

CHAPTER XXVIII
THE HILL-FORT
Lewis got to his feet and blinked at the morning sun across the yard.
"That was a near shave. Phew, I hate being a target for sharpshooting!
These devils are your friends the Bada-Mawidi."
"The deuce they are," said Andover lugubriously. "I always knew it.
I've told Holm a hundred times, and now here is the beggar away sick and
I am left to pay the piper."
"I know. I met him in Bardur, and that's why I'm here.


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