“When Colonel Coville told us to charge,” he said, “nobody ran out on that field any faster than Aaron Sibley.”
“You ran fast enough to get a bullet through your arm.”
“Only winged, only winged,” he answered impatiently. “It might have been death for any one of us.”
It was for a good many of them, Emily remembered. She had heard her grandfather say many times that only forty-seven had come back out of two hundred and sixty-two who had made the gallant charge.
—from Emily of Deep Valley by Maud Hart Lovelace.
From the Archives: The Firelings by Carol Kendall
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Books on the Rilla Shelf
Ichabod Is Itchy and So Am I
“Look for a lovely thing and you will find it”