No doubt that sturdy old war horse Gen. Toreado, was considerably surprised when I gave an Indian yell and descended upon him with all the fury of a young tornado.
I did not mean he should have any chance to draw a weapon, not caring to spit myself, carried forward by the violence of my rush, upon his Toledo blade.
He was a much older man than I, but a soldier must take hard knocks as they come, and it was neither the time nor place to solve questions of military etiquette.
I rammed him good and hard, meaning to clear the deck in one round.
The general had doubtless found considerable difficulty in making the ascent, for he was still breathing heavily when I ran up against him.
It was much easier going down.
All he had to do was to spread out his legs and arms like a huge jumping frog, take a lovely somersault, and, presto! the thing was done.
If one looks far enough there is usually adequate compensation for all laborious efforts.
But I am of the opinion that the venerable fire eater never fully realized how striking an example of equation I solved when I tumbled him so neatly from the roof of the toolshed; and should I ever have the misfortune to fall into his hands, something besides gratitude would mark his action toward me.
Of course, I had not the slightest idea of ever becoming his prisoner.