Henry Seton Merriman

Summary

Henry Seton Merriman Tomaso's Fortune, and Other Stories… (1904)

I went out after breakfast, and I gave him a leg up on to his very sorry horse, which he sat like a tailor or a sailor. He held the reins like tiller-lines, and indulged in a pleased smile at the effect of the yellow boots.
“No great hand at this sort of thing,” he said, with a nod of farewell. “When the beast does anything out of the common, or begins to make heavy weather of it, I am not.”
He ranged up alongside his beloved gun, and gave the word of command with more dignity than he knew what to do with.
All that day I was employed in arranging quarters for the nurses.
Source: Wikisource

Henry Seton Merriman Tomaso's Fortune, and Other Stories… (1904)

Sammy and I had met before he had touched a rope or I a scalpel. We hailed from the same part of the country—down Devonshire way; and, to a limited extent, we knew each other's people—which little phrase has a vast meaning in places where men do congregate.
We turned in pretty early—I on a hospital mattress, he in my bed; but Sam would not go to sleep. He would lie with his arms above his head (which is not an attitude of sleep) and talk about that everlasting gun.
Source: Wikisource

Henry Seton Merriman Tomaso's Fortune, and Other Stories… (1904)

He had ridden alongside of it—sitting on the top of his horse as sailors do—through seventy miles of desert without a halt; watching over it and tending it as he might have watched and tended his mother, or perhaps some other woman.
“Gad! doctor,” he exclaimed, kicking out his sturdy legs, and contemplating with some satisfaction the yellow hide top-boots which he had bought at the Army and Navy Stores. (I know the boots well, and—avoid them.) “Gad! doctor, you should see that gun on the war-path. Travels as light as a tricycle.
Source: Wikisource

Get perspective with Kwize: daily news enlightened by great literature