The Little Ball O' Fire; or, the Life and Adventures of John Marston Hall: The Works of G. P. R. James, Vol. XV.James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
History
The Little Ball O' Fire; or, the Life and Adventures of John Marston Hall: The Works of G. P. R. James, Vol. XV.
James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
France -- History -- Louis XIV, 1643-1715 -- Fiction
These sort of surprises are generally followed by a speedy
explanation; and the appearance of four stout, well-dressed,
good-looking gentlemen, with firelocks in their hands, pistols in
their girdles, and swords by their sides, at once gave me a clear
insight into the whole affair. As my poor horse, panting in the
agonies of death, lay heavy upon my foot and ankle, which he had
crushed beneath him in his fall, I was in no condition to offer any
resistance, even had it been wise to do so against such superior
numbers. The groom, indeed, was still less capable of opposing any
measures that our friends with the firelocks might judge expedient, as
the ball, which was probably intended for his horse, had deviated a
little from its course, and gone right through his head. I lay quite
still also, for in all the many conflicts of one kind or another that
I had witnessed, I had always remarked, that men, in working
themselves up to such an action as that which our assailants had just
committed, engender in their own bosoms a great deal more fury than is
at all necessary to the accomplishment of their exact purpose. This
superabundant energy breaks upon the first object opposed to it; but
it soon evaporates, and those who would stab you the moment after they
have fired the gun, or rushed to the charge, will be a great deal
humanised within five minutes after the struggle is over.
The robbers rushed immediately upon the groom like hungry wolves; and
turning him over, for he had fallen upon his face, took a hurried
glance at his countenance. "Diable!" cried one of our assailants, as
they did so, "we have made a mistake, Messieurs. This is not the
courier, after all. Peste! you have killed him, too, Serjeant. Why the
devil did you fire so high?"
"You have done the same for the other, Hubert," replied the one he
addressed.
"I hope not," said the first; "I had his horse fair enough; but let us
see."
On the assurance of these charitable expressions, I ventured a low
groan, which, indeed, had long wanted utterance; for the pain I
suffered by the horse lying on my leg was most intense, especially as
he more than once made a dying effort to start up, and then fell back
again upon me.
"It is a boy," said the leader of the robbers, as they came near. "Art
thou dead or alive, _mon garcon?_"
"Not quite dead," I replied, "but I cannot get up, for the horse is
upon my leg."
"Ah! so I see, poor boy," said the other. "Help us here, Serjeant, and
let us get him out." This was easily accomplished; and finding that I
could not stand with very great ease to myself, I sat down on the
bank, rubbing my leg with both my hands, to recal it to some
sensation, making up my mind, at the same time, to undergo the
interrogatory which I saw was preparing for me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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