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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"Green Fancy"

I am not complaining, Mr. Barnes. You will find
me ready and strong and--"
"Let me think. I must try to get my bearings. Good Lord, I wish
Sprouse were here. He has eyes like a cat. He can see in the dark. We
are off the path, that's sure."
"I hope he is safe. Do you think he escaped?"
"I am sure of it. Those whistles were sounding the alarm. There would
have been no object in blowing them unless he had succeeded in getting
out of the house. He may come this way. The chances are that your
flight has not been discovered. They are too busy with him to think of
you,--at least for the time being. Do you feel like going on? We must
beat them to the Tavern. They--"
"I am all right now," she said, and they were off again. Barnes now
picked his way carefully and with the greatest caution. If at times he
was urged to increased speed through comparatively open spaces it was
because he realised the peril that lay at the very end of their
journey: the likelihood of being cut off by the pursuers before he
could lodge her safely inside of the walls. He could only pray that he
was going in the right direction.
An hour,--but what seemed thrice as long,--passed and they had not
come to the edge of the forest.


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