Arthur Conan Doyle,
Micah Clarke — Chapter XXX
(1889)
“ But I will not fight against King James, nor will I risk the mare, so let me hear no more of it. And now I must leave ye, for I have much to do. Farewell to you!''Farewell, farewell!' we cried, pressing his brown horny hands; 'our thanks to you for your guidance.' Raising his hat, he shook his bridle and galloped off down the road in a rolling cloud of dust.'Rat me, if I ever say a word against the thieves again!' said Sir Gervas. 'I never saw a man wield sword more deftly in my life, and he must be a rare hand with a pistol to bring those two tall fellows down with two shots. ”
