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Updated: June 21, 2025
"Be careful and don't let her escape," cautioned Dan Baxter. "We won't be gone very long." Baxter had left for a telegraph office, expecting to receive a message from Josiah Crabtree. For half an hour Mrs. Goss sat in the cabin watching Dora, who was pacing the floor impatiently. "Make yourself comfortable, miss," said the woman. "It won't do you any good to get all worked up over the matter."
This took her some time, there being so many odds and ends which had accumulated during her many years' association with the college. As it was getting dark, she slipped out to tell the nearest local agent for Carter Paterson to have her boxes removed the first thing in the morning. Hurrying back, she ran into Bella Goss, a pupil at the college, and her father. Mr.
Goss took no notice of this, and with her heart in her throat the girl slipped noiselessly from her resting place and stood up. Still the woman took no notice, and now Dora found herself confronted by a most difficult task. Without the key to the cabin door she could do nothing, and how to obtain the much coveted article was a problem. With trembling hands she sought the pocket of Mrs.
It seems that back in the days when the county was first settled the pioneers found the ponds and streams in peaceful possession of an ancient trapper whom they called Daddy Goss. Trapping was his business; he did nothing else. Every fall and winter while he was tending his trap lines he used to stay for a week or a month at a time at the settlers' houses.
Don't talk so loud! D'you want to git us killed? Which one got it?" "Purdy. De pilgrim shoot heem 'cause he run off wit' he's girl." "Pilgrim! What pilgrim! An' what girl? Ain't that Tex Benton's horse, an' Cinnabar Joe's ?" "Uh-huh, A'm bor' heem Tex boss for ketch Purdy. An', Ba goss, he shoot heem on he's head after Purdy draw'd!" Moore stared aghast. "What? A pilgrim done that?
Who is this presumptuous fellow who would take Carlyle in tutelage, foist himself upon the attention of the public by making a peep-show of the great essayist's faults? There is, or was, a pugilist named Gesse, or Goss; but as he did not deal foul blows to the dead, this must be a different breed of dogs.
He advanced and removed his hat; "Adieu, ma'mselle, mebbe-so I ain' git dere 'til you gon'. Ol' Bat, he lak' you fine. You need de help, som'tam', you mak' de write to ol' Bat an', ba Goss, A'm com' lak' hell you bet you dam' life!" Tears blinded the girl's eyes as she held out her hand, and as a cavalier of old France, the half-breed bent and brushed it with his lips.
Goss, and once more the unhappy girl found herself a prisoner in the cabin. She had hoped for much during the chase along shore, but now her heart sank like a lamp of lead and she burst into tears. "No use of crying," said Mrs. Goss. "It won't help you a bit." "I want to be free!" sobbed Dora. "Where will they take me?" "Never mind; you just be quiet and wait."
Then, seeing himself free and once more king of Lincoln street, he warned away all who would approach, and, with a file which he compelled Goss to bring to him, started to file off one of his leg irons. He got one free, ordered a bystander to bring him a horse, and at length, mounting, rode away for the Capitans, and so to a country with which he had long been familiar.
Slowly and cautiously the Flyaway drew nearer, until all on board of Harris' yacht could see their enemies quite plainly. Arnold Baxter was armed with a shotgun, while Buddy Girk and Dan Baxter carried pistols. Mumps kept out of sight as much as possible, while Bill Goss attended to the steering of the boat. Dora and Mrs. Goss were below.
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