Explore "A Border Raid" by L.L. Weedon on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
LONG John o' the Limp sat with his back against the mounting-block, polishing a pair of steel gauntlets.
The sun, not a great way as yet above the low peat hills that edged the little valley to eastwards, flung the shadow of the grey peel-tower far along the grass, and Long John o' the Limp shifted his legs to bring them into the sunshine.