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title: 'The Day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, September 28, 1912, Image 20',
meta: 'News about Chronicling America - RSS Feed',
Image provided by: University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL
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were hundreds of spectators; in
a roped-oflF portion was a group
of ladies, and, in the center of
these, the Queen of Beauty. On
either side of a central wall of
planks knights were riding to
ward each other, thrusting with
"Well, if r can't beat that!"
muttered Burnett to himself, as
he saw one Jightly touch the
armor of his antagonist, saw the
lance splinter, and heard the
herald proclaim thevictor amid
deafening shouts. He adjusted
his vizor and sent the gray at an
easy lumber toward the knights'
pavilion. Again the "horse was
seized by the bridle Looking
down Burnett perceived thata
gorgeously clad individual, flank
ed on each side by a boy bearing
a pennant and followed by a
trumpeter who looked like the
Knave of Hearts, was accosting
him. , ' '
"Your name, Sir Knight?" de
manded this individual, looking a
little heepish. For the question
Burnett was prepared.
"Sir, I am a stranger knight,"
he answered briskly, "and 1 have
ridden hither from overseas to
contest for my lady'in your tour
ney and to uphold hei1 name
against all comers." .
"You cannot contest, sir, unless
your name is on the entrance
list," replied the herald, keeping
a tight grip on the horse's bridle.
"It's against the rules. Hi! Get
off the grass, you there! Go
round and pay your shilling at
the entrance if you want to see
But Burnett broke short the
colloquy by suddenly spurring
the gray again and galloping to
ward the entrance, 'where he per
ceived a bevy of knights upon
their steeds awaiting their turn
at the jousting. The Master-of-arms,
seeing him "approach, came
spurring out toward him.
"Your name, Sir Knight?" he
demanded. "Are you an entrant'
in this tourney, and come to do
battle for some lady?"
"No, I'm a stranger," answer
ed Burnett briskly. ''But I guess
from the littlel've seen that there
won't be much of a battle when
I get busy."
The Master-at-arms frowned1"
angrily. "Nobody -who isn't en
tered can joist, unless some lady
has nominated him," he an
swered." The Master-at-arms carried"an
ugly-looking face, and there
seemed a certain finality in his
words. ' Suddenly Burnett cast
ing his eyes upward, perceived,
looking at him, not twenty yards
away Emmelme Ware !
The hock ' almost unnerved
him. He had been thrown much
into her Society since his arrived
two months before, and had rea
son to believe that she -was not
wholly indifferent to him. And"
now'looking z her, he perceived
that she had overheard, and dis
tinctly saw her lips frame the
'"I'm nominated. by Miss Ware
Miss ' Emmeline Ware. She's
my nominator I mean my lady,"
stammered Burnett; and- 'then
somehow, the strangeness of thg