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Walcott, Earle Ashley, 1859-1931

"Blindfolded"


"It's a thousand dollars for you if you get to the wharf ahead of the
others," cried Mrs. Knapp.
"And you'll have a bullet in your hide if you don't keep out of gunshot
of them," I added.
The double inducement to haste had its effect, and we could feel the
swifter motion of the vehicle under us, and see the more rapid passage
of the trees and fences that lined the way.
The wild ride appeared to last for ages. The fast trot of the horses
was a funeral pace to the flight of my excited and anxious imagination.
What if we should be overtaken? The hack would offer no protection from
bullets, and Mrs. Knapp and the boy could scarcely escape injury if it
came to a close encounter. But whenever I looked back there was only
the single horseman galloping behind us, and the only sound to be heard
was that of our own progress.
At last the houses began to pass more frequently. Now the road was
broken by cross streets. Gas-lamps appeared, flickering faint and
yellow in the morning air, as though the long night vigil had robbed
them of their vitality. We were once more within city limits, and I
felt a loosening of the tense nerves of anxiety. The panting horses
never slackened pace. We swept over a long bridge, and plunged down a
shaded street, and the figure of the horseman was the only sign of life
behind us. Of a sudden there sounded a long roll, as of a great drum
beating the reveille for an army of giants. The horseman quickened his
pace and galloped furiously beside us.


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