时间：2020-07-14 16:49:40 作者：奔跑吧兄弟 浏览量：26216
"Tain-HUT!" Fifteen hundred pairs of boots smacked together. The Adjutant held up his clipboard and read precisely: "Attention to orders:
"HAHMS!" Fifteen hundred Dardick-rifles, sheathed in plastic, slapped perpendicular. The blue-clad officers, armed with pistols, touched their index fingers to their helmet-temples. The bandsmen's drums growled, the electronic horns sobbed against their mutes, and the flutes in lonely purity played the theme of "Oh, Pioneers!" For all his har-de-har-hardness, Hartford felt a sting in his eyes at this moment, as he did whenever the splendidly stage-managed ceremony of Retreat was performed. After the Anthem, much louder, the band played Retreat. The colors crept down the flagstaff, into the reverent arms of a pair of Service Policemen.
Anger seized him, engendered by his mingled feelings of reluctance and desire to take advantage of the chance.
“She’s going to hit us, I reckon, Jack!” called out Amos, who stood forward and eagerly watched every little thing that occurred.
"Then the name is yours as long as you want it—Doc."
No outsider—few professional judges—could have recognised the superiority of one of the competitors over the other. Yet McGilead recognised it as clearly as by lightning flare. And he saw his duty—the duty that lay plain before him.
"How are you to-day?" continued the sergeant.
said Jack, “I think the night will be a dark one.”
"A Note," Georges said, waving his cigar. "What the purple polluted hell is a Note supposed to do? I've got Aga Kagan claim-jumpers camped in the middle of what used to be a fine stand of barley, cooking sheep's brains over dung fires not ten miles from Government House—and upwind at that."