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Buchan, John, 1875-1940

"The Half-Hearted"

They were the frontier soldiers, and this was
their profession; he was the amateur to whom technicalities were
unmeaning.
Suddenly he sprang up and touched St. John on the shoulder. A great
chill seemed to have passed over the world, and on the hill-tops there
was a faint light. Both men looked to the east, and there, beyond the
Forza hills, was the red foreglow spreading over the grey. It was dawn,
and with the dawn came safety. The fires had burned low, and the
vagrant morning winds were beginning to scatter the white ashes. Now
was the hour for bravado, since the time for silence had gone. St.
John gave the word, and it was passed like a roll-call to left and
right, the farthest man shouting it along the ribs of mountain to the
next watch-fire. The air had grown clear and thin, and far off the dim
repetition was heard, which told of sentries at their place, and the
line of posts which rimmed the frontier.
Mitchinson moistened his dry lips and filled his lungs with the cold,
fresh air. "That," he said slowly, "is the morning report of the last
outpost of the Empire, and by the grace of God it's 'All's well.'"

CHAPTER XXXII
THE BLESSING OF GAD
"Gad--a troop shall overcome him, but he shall overcome at the last."
Lewis peered into the gorge and saw only a thin darkness. The high
walls made pits of shade at the foot, but above there was a misty column
of light which showed the spectres of rock and bush in the nullah
beyond.


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