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All the Boston man could see was that from a tumbled pile of branches, dogs, and men, some one at last stepped back, gripping a sack, and cried: "Got it all right, and it's a buster." "Now for the other forty-nine!" shouted Jimmy, straining into his coat. "Come on, boys, we must secure a coon for every one," cried the Thread Man, heartily as any member of the party might have said it.
When he was able to collect himself he was on the tower again, but in his cassock now and gripping the cord by which it was tied. The frosty air of the morning had thickened to a fog, the fog-signals were sounding, and the mighty monster below seemed to be puffing fire from a thousand nostrils and bellowing from a thousand throats. Some one had come up to him. It was Brother Paul.
When the Martian reached the deck, Redgrave held out his hand and the giant recoiled, as a man on earth might have done if, instead of the open palm, he had seen a clenched hand gripping a knife. "Take care, Lenox," exclaimed Zaidie, taking a couple of steps towards him, with her right hand on the butt of one of her revolvers.
"Flora Flora!" I shouted, loud and hoarsely. Above the thunder of the waters, above the yelling of the bloodthirsty savages, I fancied I heard an answering cry. Again I called her name. Just then I saw two white hands gripping the gunwale of the canoe, and Lavigne, who was still clinging to the tree, nodded his head in that direction, and shouted something I could not understand.
Writhing and groaning I slipped out of my quilt, cloak and tunic, and, groaning, I crawled to the flat-topped stone. Face down on it I lay, my chest against it, my knees on the ground, my arms outstretched, my fingers gripping the far edge of the altar-stone. So placed I bade Agathemer lay on with the scourge. "Flay me!" I ordered. "I should be torn raw from neck to hips.
Gripping the Browning with nervous fingers I waited, listening intently; but the silence remained unbroken. My gaze set upon the spot where the head of this midnight visitant might be expected to appear, I almost held my breath during the ensuing moments of frightful suspense. The door was opening; slowly slowly by almost imperceptible degrees.
Inexorable, motionless, the past is endowed with the attributes of divinity, because, for believers as well as for unbelievers, the great attribute of God is that of being prayed to. The pregnant woman had gone out. I saw her go to the door, softly with maternal carefulness of herself. Anna and the sick man were left alone. The evening had a gripping reality.
"What has Mag Sinton been telling you?" panted the miserable woman, gripping the fence. "The truth!" answered Mrs. Comstock succinctly. "Guilt is in every line of your face, in your eyes, all over your wretched body. If I'd taken a good look at you any time in all these past years, no doubt I could have seen it just as plain as I can now.
And now and then they stooped in a group and splashed water in each other's faces with their palms, gradually approaching each other, with averted faces to avoid the strangling sprays, and finally gripping and struggling till the best man ducked his neighbor, and then they all went under in a tangle of white legs and arms and came up blowing, sputtering, laughing, and gasping for breath at one and the same time.
In place of it he saw a shadowy figure hanging between earth and heaven with tense fingers gripping a little bush, while a river frothed down the black hollow five hundred feet below, and remembered that even in that moment the man who hung there regretted he could not repay somebody who had cheated him.
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