As he held it thus, heavy steps sounded at the rear of the house, a door was flung open and Armitage sprang into the room with Oscar close at his heels.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE VERGE OF MORNING
O to mount again where erst I haunted;
Where the old red hills are bird-enchanted,
And the low green meadows
Bright with sward;
And when even dies, the million-tinted,
And the night has come, and planets glinted,
Lo! the valley hollow, Lamp-bestarr’d.
—R.L.S.
“I hope you like my things, Captain Claiborne!”
Armitage stood a little in advance, his hand on Oscar’s arm to check the rush of the little man.
Claiborne sheathed the sword, placed it on the table and folded his arms.
“Yes; they are very interesting.”
“And those ribbons and that cloak,—I assure you they are of excellent quality. Oscar, put a blanket on this gentleman’s horse. Then make some coffee and wait.”