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Kipling, Rudyard, 1865-1936

"From Mine Own People"

Then came to his mind the memory of a quaint scene in the
Soudan. A soldier had been nearly hacked in two by a broad-bladed Arab spear.
For one instant the man felt no pain. Looking down, he saw that his life-blood
was going from him. The stupid bewilderment on his face was so intensely comic
that both Dick and Torpenhow, still panting and unstrung from a fight for life,
had roared with laughter, in which the man seemed as if he would join, but, as
his lips parted in a sheepish grin, the agony of death came upon him, and he
pitched grunting at their feet. Dick laughed again, remembering the horror. It
seemed so exactly like his own case.
"But I have a little more time allowed me," he said. He paced up and down the
room, quietly at first, but afterwards with the hurried feet of fear. It was as
though a black shadow stood at his elbow and urged him to go forward; and there
were only weaving circles and floating pin-dots before his eyes.
"We need to be calm, Binkie; we must be calm." He talked aloud for the sake of
distraction. "This isn't nice at all. What shall we do? We must do something.
Our time is short. I shouldn't have believed that this morning; but now things
are different. Binkie, where was Moses when the light went out?"
Binkie smiled from ear to ear, as a well-bred terrier should, but made no
suggestion.


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