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. ”
