Summary

Portrait of Joseph Alexander Altsheler Joseph Alexander Altsheler The Guns of Europe — Chapter IX: The Ride of Three

John's face was like a mask, although his heart was beating hard. A whistle over his head showed that a bullet had passed there and he heard its plunk as it buried itself in a tree on the other side of the road.
He remembered with some consolation that the modern,, small, high-powered rifle bullet, unless it killed, did not do so very much harm. It went through one so fast that it did not tear flesh or break bones, and the wounds it made were quick to heal.
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Portrait of Joseph Alexander Altsheler Joseph Alexander Altsheler The Guns of Europe — Chapter IX: The Ride of Three

Gaussin too was not without a touch of the dramatic instinct, and he proudly waved his arm, across which the white napkin lay, toward John, Carstairs and Wharton.
"When you have warmed and dried yourself a little and have drank a glass of this fine old liquor of mine," he said benignantly, "you shall join them."
"And we shall welcome you as a comrade," said Wharton. "We are not French—two Americans and one English—but we fight with the French and their cause is ours. My friends are Carstairs and Scott, and my own name is Wharton."
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Joseph Alexander Altsheler Joseph Alexander Altsheler The Guns of Europe — Chapter IX: The Ride of Three

You can never cure him of being an Englishman. If a million French and a hundred thousand English were to win a battle Carstairs would give all the credit of it to the hundred thousand English."
"I'd give it to 'em, because it belonged to 'em. Keep your fool Yankee head down, Wharton. Didn't you hear that shell whistle?"
"I heard it, and I heard a dozen others too," said John, who could not keep from shivering a little. "Why do they keep on bothering us, when we're now in too strong a position to be attacked, and the night too is at hand?"
Source: Wikisource

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