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Davis, Richard Harding, 1864-1916

"The Exiles and Other Stories"

It never occurred to me until it was all over that this
was my chance to be a war correspondent. It wouldn't have been much of
a war, but then I would have been the only one on the spot, and that
counts for a great deal. Still, my time may come."
"We have a great deal on hand for to-morrow," said Gordon that
evening, "and we had better turn in early."
And so the people were still singing and rejoicing down in the village
when the two conspirators for the peace of the country went to sleep
for the night. It seemed to Gordon as though he had hardly turned his
pillow twice to get the coolest side when some one touched him, and he
saw, by the light of the dozen glowworms in the tumbler by his
bedside, a tall figure at its foot.
"It's me--Bradley," said the figure.
"Yes," said Gordon, with the haste of a man to show that sleep has no
hold on him; "exactly; what is it?"
"There is a ship of war in the harbor," Bradley answered in a whisper.
"I heard her anchor chains rattle when she came to, and that woke me.
I could hear that if I were dead. And then I made sure by her lights;
she's a great boat, sir, and I can know she's a ship of war by the
challenging when they change the watch. I thought you'd like to know,
sir."
Gordon sat up and clutched his knees with his hands. "Yes, of course,"
he said; "you are quite right. Still, I don't see what there is to
do."
He did not wish to show too much youthful interest, but though fresh
from civilization, he had learned how far from it he was, and he was
curious to see this sign of it that had come so much more quickly than
he had anticipated.


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