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The crocodile crept on inch by inch, dragging its limbs forward with the slow, stealthy movement of its kind when stalking their prey on land. The horrified watchers saw that the terrible snout with its protruding fangs was barely a yard from Mrs. Norton's feet. Raymond's hands holding the glasses to his eyes trembled violently.
The moon was already enveloped in a dense haze. The snow was driving like fine sand in the faces of the travellers. "I think we'll give it an hour, Bill. After that I guess it'll be too thick," pursued the girl. "What d'you think, can we make Norton's in that time it's a good sixteen miles?" "I'll put 'em at it," was her companion's curt response. Neither spoke for a minute.
The thought of Charley Norton's murder rested on Carrington like a pall. Scarcely a week had elapsed since he quitted Thicket Point and in that week the hand of death had dealt with them impartially, and to what end? Then the miles he had traversed in his hopeless journey up-river translated themselves into a division of time as well as space.
With this honest confession of his lack of practice in penmanship, he proceeded to write: "Any man or animil that be in want of vict'als or garments is invited to come on Christmas day which be next week Thursday without furder axin', to John Norton's cabin, on Long Lake, to eat Christmas dinner. Vagabonds included in this invite."
To his protest that he would wait until Norton's return before breakfasting she replied with a smile that her husband had already breakfasted, telling him also that in this part of the country everyone rose with the sun.
His eyes were never still now, but roved from Rod Norton's white face to the faces of Tom Cutter, Struve, and the other men gathering in the room. Borne upon one of the Casa Blanca's doors Norton was carried to Struve's hotel, the nearest place where an attempt could be made to care for him. Patten, however, would be on hand in a moment.
"Mebbe I was stretchin' things a little when I told you that," interrupted Norton, grinning shamelessly. "If a man told the truth all the time he'd have a hard time keepin' ahead of a woman." "'Woman she don't need no tooter," quoted Hollis. "It has taken you a long time to discover what Ace has apparently known for years. And Ace is only a bachelor." Norton's eyes lighted.
"Why, Marse Tom," gasped Mammy Belle, "I done spect you in de mawnin'." It was Marion who made the explanations, their friendship for James Mandeville and Mammy Belle's difficulty with the tree, and she did it with a gracious charm of manner that was irresistible. Mr. Norton's boyish yet careworn face flushed. "You are very kind to my little boy," he said.
Norton's lined tired face met his gaze. To her he put his question. "Well," she answered, and her voice seemed softer than its wont, "I ain't thought much of that word for a good many years now. But when I do say, I seem to see myself sitting on our porch back home thirty years ago.
It seems to become better the further it is grown West and South; an observation which I think applies with equal force to the Hartford Prolific, Norton's Virginia, Herbemont and others. Bunch large, heavy shouldered somewhat compact; berries large, round, black, with blue bloom; buttery, sweet and rich here, when well ripened; with very thin skin and tender pulp.
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