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Knapp, running with his head as well as with his heels, was making straight for the creek. On the flat, among the boulders, he, naked-nimble, would be on better terms with the booted Gentleman. But he would never get there. Kit saw it at a glance. Down the hill he came with pounding fists, and great knees going. His head was flung back, his face screwed tight.
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