 So that the brute bullet broke thro' the brain that could think for the rest; Bullets would sing by our foreheads, and bullets would rain at our feet— Fire from ten thousand at once of the rebels that girdled us round— Death at the glimpse of a finger...  The Nineteenth Century: A Monthly Review - Seite 5821879Vollansicht - Über dieses Buch
 | Curtis Hidden Page - 1910 - 966 Seiten
...once of the rebels that girdled us round — Death at the glimpse of a finger from over the Toreadth of a street, Death from the heights of the mosque...you can hear him — the murderous mole ! Quiet , ah I quiet — wait till the point of the pickaxe be thro' 1 Click with the pick, coming nearer and nearer... | |
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