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Walcott, Earle Ashley, 1859-1931

"Blindfolded"

Now good-by."
"Oakland Ferry, driver," I cried, as I stepped into the hack and
slammed the door. And in a moment we were dashing out into New
Montgomery Street, and with a turn were on Market Street, rolling over
the rough cobbles toward the bay.


CHAPTER XXII
TRAILED

"Did you see him?" asked Wainwright, as the hack lurched into Market
Street and straightened its course for the ferry.
"Who?"
"Tom Terrill. He was behind that big pillar near the arch there. I saw
him just as the old lady spoke to you, but before I catches your eye,
he cuts and runs."
I felt of my revolver at this bit of news, and was consoled to have the
touch of it under my hand.
"I didn't see him," I said. "Keep the child between us, and shoot
anybody who tries to stop us or to climb into the hack. I must read my
orders."
"All right, sir," said Wainwright, making the child comfortable between
us.
I tore open the envelope and drew forth the scented paper with its
familiar, firm, yet delicate handwriting, and read the words:
"Take the train with your men for Livermore. Await orders at the hotel.
Protect the boy at all hazards."
Inclosed in the sheet were gold-notes to the value of five hundred
dollars--a thoughtful detail for which I was grateful at the outset of
such an expedition. I thrust the money into my pocket and pondered upon
the letter, wondering where Livermore might be. My knowledge of the
geography of California was exceedingly scant.


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