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Updated: May 26, 2025
"All right," shouted young Jack. "We're there." Harry Girdwood pulled vigorously towards the venturesome youth. A few strokes brought them within twenty feet of the imperilled youth, and he would have been got away in safety but for his own folly and imprudence. "Sit still," shouted young Jack. "Sit still." "He'll be overboard," ejaculated Harry, glancing over his shoulder.
"What?" cried Hunston, in feverish eagerness, while he dreaded to hear. "Your fate." "It is false." "The rope is ready the noose is run. You shall die a dog's death." "And you shall die hard," added Harry Girdwood. A groan, more fearful than any which had preceded, burst from the guilty wretch. "But Harkaway will be merciful." "As you were." "No, no, no; he is full of forgiveness, I know."
"Possible here or possible there, Mr Girdwood," quo' I, "it's oure cauld for me to stand talking wi' you here; we'll learn the rights o't in the morning; so, good-night;" and with that I pulled down the window.
If I could fire a torpedo under it and send them all where young Jack and the other boy have gone to, I shouldn't have a dull moment for the rest of my life." And the ruffian chuckled to himself maliciously. "Ah, but I was one with them," he muttered, "when I had their precious boy and that Harry Girdwood shot like dogs that they were. Ah! that was grand. Those were crumbs of comfort."
Sometimes they escaped scatheless, sometimes the garrison found itself the poorer by the loss of Captain Girdwood or Trooper Webb or some other gallant soldier. Occasionally they had their little triumph when a too curious Dutchman, peering for an instant from his cover to see the effect of his shot, was carried back in the ambulance to the laager.
The frantic efforts of the rescued boy impeded his movements, entirely baffling the heroic Jack's best efforts. Harry Girdwood saw it all, and his terror increased every moment. Well it might. The mad struggles of the stranger imperilled both. "Dive, Jack, dive," cried Harry Girdwood, frantically; "dive with him, or it is all up with both of you." Jack heard him.
The particulars given in the preceding chapter must be as unpleasant to the readers as they were to Harkaway, to Jefferson, to Dick Harvey, and beyond all to Harry Girdwood and young Jack. They are not agreeable matters to relate, and we gladly draw the veil upon such a scene.
"My dear boy," said Mole, positively, "I have nerves of iron, literally iron. Ha! what noise is that?" "Only the magician's evil spirit, or his familiar, as he calls it." "Strange," said Mole; "but sheer humbug of course." "Humbug?" "Hush!" exclaimed Mr. Mole, very anxiously. Bang went that deafening thunder again, and Mr. Mole hopped towards the door. Harry Girdwood followed him closely up.
Harry Girdwood only just spoke in time for young Jack to take heed of the warning, for a minute later and they shot past some sharp, jagged rocks, into which they would inevitably have dashed but for a lucky tug at the rudder at the very last moment. Now the roar of the wind and waters had just begun to lull a little, when a loud cry for help was heard.
"Then you don't believe in necromancy that they can tell the past and the future by the aid of astrology?" "Pickles!" It would have astonished Messieurs Crosse and Blackwell themselves, could they have heard what a deal that one word could convey when uttered by an Isaac Mole. "Well, sir," said Harry Girdwood, seriously, "the wizard told us some very remarkable things indeed."
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