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A Connecticut Yankee In King Arthur's Court Mark Twain

The Battle Of The Sand Belt


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"I think you are right," said he; "it is the obvious thing for them to try."

"Well, then," I said, "if they do it they are doomed.

"Certainly."

They won't have the slightest show in the world."

"Of course they won't."

"It's dreadful, Clarence. It seems an awful pity."

The thing disturbed me so that I couldn't get any peace of mind.for thinking of it and worrying over it. So, at last, to quiet my conscience, I framed this message to the knights:

    TO THE HONORABLE THE COMMANDER OF THE INSURGENT
    CHIVALRY OF ENGLAND: YOU fight in vain. We know
    your strength -- if one may call it by that name.
    We know that at the utmost you cannot bring
    against us above five and twenty thousand knights.
    Therefore, you have no chance -- none whatever.
    Reflect: we are well equipped, well fortified, we
    number 54. Fifty-four what? Men? No, MINDS -- the
    capablest in the world; a force against which
    mere animal might may no more hope to prevail than
    may the idle waves of the sea hope to prevail
    against the granite barriers of England. Be advised.
    We offer you your lives; for the sake of your
    families, do not reject the gift. We offer you
    this chance, and it is the last: throw down your
    arms; surrender unconditionally to the Republic,
    and all will be forgiven.

(Signed) THE BOSS.

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I read it to Clarence, and said I proposed to send it by a flag of truce. He laughed the sarcastic laugh he was born with, and said:

"Somehow it seems impossible for you to ever fully realize what these nobilities are. Now let us save a little time and trouble. Consider me the commander of the knights yonder. Now, then, you are the flag of truce; approach and deliver me your message, and I will give you your answer."

I humored the idea. I came forward under an imaginary guard of the enemy's soldiers, produced my paper, and read it through. For answer, Clarence struck the paper out of my hand, pursed up a scornful lip and said with lofty disdain:

"Dismember me this animal, and return him in a basket to the base-born knave who sent him; other answer have I none!"

How empty is theory in presence of fact! And this was just fact, and nothing else. It was the thing that would have happened, there was no getting around that. I tore up the paper and granted my mistimed sentimentalities a permanent rest.

Then, to business. I tested the electric signals from the gatling platform to the cave, and made sure that they were all right; I tested and retested those which commanded the fences -- these were signals whereby I could break and renew the electric current in each fence independently of the others at will. I placed the brook-connection under the guard and authority of three of my best boys, who would alternate in two-hour watches all night and promptly obey my signal, if I should have occasion to give it -- three revolver-shots in quick succession. Sentry-duty was discarded for the night, and the corral left empty of life; I ordered that quiet be maintained in the cave, and the electric lights turned down to a glimmer.

 
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A Connecticut Yankee In King Arthur's Court
Mark Twain

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