"He's lost his raiment, but saved his life," sputtered Collins, climbing into his saddle.
"He's lost more than that," remarked Ardmore, and his flushed countenance, noted by the others as he lighted a cigarette, was cheerfuller than they had ever seen it before.
In a moment they had climbed the hill and were in hot pursuit of the adjutant-general's abandoned army.
CHAPTER XVII ON THE ROAD TO TURNER'S
"Who goes there?"
"A jug."
"What kind of a jug?"
"A little brown jug from Kildare."