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Updated: May 21, 2025
We breakfasted with our friends, and as my examination before the magistrate was to take place at ten o'clock, the whole party started for Torrentville immediately. Sim Gwynn had some doubts about going up to Torrentville, and said "Hookie" with more than usual emphasis, when the thing was proposed to him; but Mr. Goodridge promised to save him from Barkspear's wrath, and he consented to go.
I asked, disturbed by an unpleasant fear that he had been disregarding the rights of property. "I got it up to Barkspear's," replied he, laughing, as though he had done a clever thing. "Then you must carry it back again, Sim. I won't have any stealing done!" I added, sharply. "Hookie! You don't think I'd steal do you, Buck Bradford?" "Didn't you take that axe from Barkspear's?"
The current was bearing the helpless female by it, but not more than fifty feet distant. It might as well have been a mile, so far as our capacity to overcome the space between us was concerned. "Down with the sail, Sim!" I shouted, sharply. "Hookie!" gasped Sim, still standing with his mouth wide open, gazing at the poor woman. "Down with it!" I repeated, giving him a kick to sharpen his wits.
We were all too young and inexperienced to behold a human being apparently at the gates of death without a tremendous sensation of horror. "Hookie!" gasped Sim, after he had gazed an instant at the object, his breath collapsing as he uttered the favorite expression. "Can't you save her?" cried Flora, in trembling tones. "I will if I can." "O, do save her. It's terrible."
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