Hervey 11 - On His Majesty's Service - Plot & Excerpts
There’s no blood.’‘Ah don’t think so,’ Johnson gasped as they pulled him up. ‘Bastard thing. What wor it, sir?’‘A rifle,’ said Hervey. ‘And a Turk with a damn fine eye – or the Devil’s luck. See, the ball struck your knapsack’ (the corner was holed). ‘Keep your head low. I want to find yonder marksman.’He turned to clamber over fallen masonry to a half-demolished wall, pulling out his telescope from the holster slung over a shoulder. Fairbrother, Cornet Agar and Corporal Acton scrambled after him.There was a billow of white smoke, a report – louder in the warm, still air – and a flutter, bat-like, as the ball passed close and then struck the wall of the house behind. And it had been less than a minute: a Turk adept with powder and ramrod – or were there two rifles?‘Mark the time, Mr Agar. What would you say it was, Fairbrother – three furlongs?’His friend was observing with naked eye. ‘At least. Deuced fine shooting.’‘I wish I’d a rifle!’ snarled Johnson as he struggled out of his soiled tunic below the wall.
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