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Buchan, John, 1875-1940

"The Half-Hearted"

You haven't a connection
by any chance?"
"No. Wish we had. The heliograph is no good, and the telegraph is
still under the consideration of some engineer man. But how do you
propose to get to Nazri? It's only twelve miles, but they are mostly up
on end."
"I did it when I was here before. It's easy enough if you have done any
rock-climbing, and I can leave with the light. Besides, there's a
moon."
Andover laughed. "You've turned over a new leaf, Lewis. Your energy
puts us all to shame. I wish I had your physical gifts, my son. The
worst of being long and lanky in a place like this is that you're always
as stiff as a poker. I shall die of sciatica before I am forty. But
upon my word it is queer meeting you here in the loneliest spot in
creation. When I saw you in town before I came out, you were going into
Parliament or some game of that kind. Then I heard that you had been
out here, and gone back; and now for no earthly reason I waken up one
fine morning to find you being potted at before my gate. You're as
sudden as Marker, and a long chalk more mysterious."
Lewis looked grave. "I wish Marker were only as simple as me, or I as
sudden as him. It's a gift not learned in a day. Anyhow I'm here, and
we've got a day's sport before us. Hullo, the ball seems about to open."
Little puffs of smoke and dust were rising from beyond the wall, and on
the heavy air came the faint ping-ping of rifles.


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