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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The White Company"

He seemed to be in the last extremity of
fright, with a face the color of clay and his limbs all ashake as
one who hath an ague. Behind him, with his toe ever rasping upon
the other's heels, there walked a very stern, black-bearded man
with a hard eye and a set mouth. He bore over his shoulder a
great knotted stick with three jagged nails stuck in the head of
it, and from time to time he whirled it up in the air with a
quivering arm, as though he could scarce hold back from dashing
his companion's brains out. So in silence they walked under the
spread of the branches on the grass-grown path from Boldre.
"By St. Paul!" quoth the knight, "but this is a passing strange
sight, and perchance some very perilous and honorable venture may
arise from it. I pray you, Edricson, to ride up to them and to
ask them the cause of it."
There was no need, however, for him to move, for the twain came
swiftly towards them until they were within a spear's length,
when the man with the cross sat himself down sullenly upon a
tussock of grass by the wayside, while the other stood beside him
with his great cudgel still hanging over his head.


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