Lewis Arundel; Or, The Railroad Of LifeSmedley, Frank E. (Frank Edward)
General
Lewis Arundel; Or, The Railroad Of Life
Smedley, Frank E. (Frank Edward)
English fiction -- 19th century
The catastrophe related at the end of the last chapter attracted the
attention of a couple of labourers who had been engaged in mending the
road, and they immediately hastened to the spot to render any assistance
which might be required. By their aid the poor woman was extricated from
her perilous situation, and fortunately proved to be less injured than
could have been expected, a dislocated shoulder being the most serious
hurt she had sustained. Committing the phaeton and horses to the care
of one of the working men, Lewis and the other labourer carried the poor
woman to a cottage by the roadside, and deposited her on a bed till
such time as the surgeon (for whom General Grant had, by his daughter’s
suggestion, despatched the groom on the horse which Lewis had ridden)
should arrive. Luckily, they had not long to wait, as the boy met the
person he was in search of returning from his round of professional
visits. The dislocated shoulder was soon set to rights and bandaged up,
and the sight of Annie’s well-filled purse rendered easy an arrangement
with the tenants of the cottage to allow the invalid to continue their
inmate till the next day, when she could be removed without detriment.
In the meantime the General had drawn Lewis on one side, and was
expatiating to him upon the cause of the accident. “You perceive, Mr.
Arundel, that my wrist is slightly swollen? Well, sir, that is from an
old strain received in the little affair at Sticumlÿkphun. I was only
a captain then. The company to which I belonged got separated from the
regiment in crossing a jungle, and a party of the Rajah’s irregular
horse tried to cut us off; they were upon us so suddenly, we hadn’t
time to form a hollow square, and for a minute our fate appeared
sealed;--they rode the men down like sheep. In the _mêlée_ a gigantic
trooper cut down the colour-sergeant and was about to possess himself
of the flag, when I seized the staff with my left hand and struck at him
with my sabre, but, unfortunately, it broke on his cuirass; his sword
had also snapped with the blow which had caused the sergeant’s death,
and a struggle ensued between us for the possession of the colours.
His strength was in proportion to his height, but although I felt as if
every muscle in my arms was about to snap, I held on till one of my
men shot him through the head. At the same moment a troop of the 14th
Lancers rode up and rescued us--but my wrists-have never recovered the
strain. However, I found little difficulty in holding in these horses,
till, just now, when we had turned to come home, some boys overthrew a
barrow full of stones by the roadside, which startled the animals;
they broke into a gallop, and despite all my efforts to prevent it, the
accident to which you were witness occurred.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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