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Wodehouse, P. G. (Pelham Grenville), 1881-1975

"Mike"

"
"Killed him?" asked Marjory excitedly.
"No. Only potted him in the leg. This is what he says. First page is
mostly about the Ripton match and so on. Here you are. 'I'm dictating
this to a sportsman of the name of Danvers, a good chap who can't help
being ugly, so excuse bad writing. The fact is we've been having a
bust-up here, and I've come out of it with a bullet in the shoulder,
which has crocked me for the time being. It happened like this. An
ass of a Gaucho had gone into the town and got jolly tight, and
coming back, he wanted to ride through our place. The old woman who
keeps the lodge wouldn't have it at any price. Gave him the absolute
miss-in-baulk. So this rotter, instead of shifting off, proceeded to
cut the fence, and go through that way. All the farms out here have
their boundaries marked by wire fences, and it is supposed to be a
deadly sin to cut these. Well, the lodge-keeper's son dashed off in
search of help. A chap called Chester, an Old Wykehamist, and I were
dipping sheep close by, so he came to us and told us what had happened.
We nipped on to a couple of horses, pulled out our revolvers, and
tooled after him. After a bit we overtook him, and that's when the
trouble began. The johnny had dismounted when we arrived. I thought
he was simply tightening his horse's girths. What he was really doing
was getting a steady aim at us with his revolver.


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