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163 stories from 11 authors
Jerome Searing, a private soldier of General Sherman's army, then confronting the enemy at and about Kennesaw Mountain, Georgia, turned his back upon a small group of officers with whom he had been talking in low tones, stepped across a light line of earthworks, and disappeared in a forest.
John Messner clung with mittened hand to the bucking gee-pole and held the sled in the trail.
“Poirot,” I said, “a change of air would do you good.” “You think so, mon ami?” “I am sure of it.” “Eh—eh?” said my friend, smiling.
"Do you think, Colonel, that your brave Coulter would like to put one of his guns in here?" the general asked.
He had a dreamy, far-away look in his eyes, and his sad, insistent voice, gentle-spoken as a maid’s, seemed the placid embodiment of some deep-seated melancholy.