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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"Green Fancy"


You will have to talk if you do, and talking is barred for the
present."
He stopped at the corner of the inn and listened for a moment. Then he
darted across the road and turned to the left in the ditch that
bordered it. The night was as black as pitch. Barnes, trusting to the
little man's eyes, and hanging close upon his coat-tails, followed
blindly but gallantly in the tracks of the leader. It seemed to him
that they stumbled along parallel to the road for miles before Sprouse
came to a halt.
"Climb over the fence here, and stick close to me. Are you getting
your cats'-eyes?"
"Yes, I can see pretty well now. But, great scot, why should we walk
half way to the North Pole, Sprouse, before--"
"We haven't come more than half a mile. The Curtis land ends here. We
stay close to this fence till we reach the woods. I was in here to-day
taking observations."
"You were?"
"Yes. Didn't that actress friend of yours mention meeting me?"
"No."
"I told her distinctly that I had eleven children, nineteen--"
"By Jove, was that you?" gasped Barnes, falling in beside him.
"If it were light enough you could see a sign on my back which says in
large type, 'Silence,'" said the other, and after that not a word
passed between them for half an hour or more.


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