Svengal lay groaning on the turf. His thighs were sheer agony. His buttocks ached. His calf muscles were on fire. Now, afterhe had tumbled off the small pony he was riding and thudded heavily to the turf on the point of his shoulder, the shoulder would hurt too. He concentrated on trying to find one part of his body that wasn't a giant source of pain and failed miserably. He opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the face of the elderly pony that he had been riding peered down at him. Now what made you do a strange thing like that? The creature seemed to be asking.
John Flanagan[Will]'d barely been asleep a few minutes when Halt's voice woke him. 'Will? Are you asleep?'... 'I was,' he said, a little indignantly. 'I'm not now.' 'Good,' Halt replied, a trifle smugly. 'Serves you right.
John FlanaganA good leader is someone who knows what he's bad at, and hires someone who's good at it to take care of it for him.
John FlanaganFighting positions, please, ladies...' 'That's debatable,' Halt said in an undertone to Will as they stood watching... 'The 'fighting' part or the 'ladies' part?' Will replied with a grin. Halt looked at him and shook his head. 'Definitely the 'ladies,'' he said. 'There's no debate about the 'fighting.'' Will shrugged. He knew there was an edginess to the girls' relationship and that it had something to do with him. Why that should be so was beyond him.
John Flanagan