"I knew all the time that he'd be on hand." It was a white lie.

Captain Helm was as much surprised as his captors at what he heard; but he could not resist the temptation to be annoying.
Hamilton looked as Farnsworth directed, and sure enough, there was the young Virginian Lieutenant, standing on a barricade, his hat off, cheering his men with a superb show of zeal.

Not a hair of his head was missing, so far as the glass could be relied upon to show.
Oncle Jazon's quick old eyes saw the gleam of the telescope tube in the loop-hole.
"I never could shoot much," he muttered, and then a little bullet sped with absolute accuracy from his disreputable looking rifle and shattered the object-lens, just as Hamilton moved to withdraw the glass, uttering an ejaculation of intense excitement.
"Such devils of marksmen!" said he, and his face was haggard.

"That infernal Indian lied." "I could have told you all the time that the scalp Long-Hair brought to you was not Beverley's," said Helm indifferently.

"I recognized Lieutenant Barlow's hair as soon as I saw it." This was another piece of off-hand romance.