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"Gid Mackall's lying over there, somewhere," said Larry Joslyn, who was all anxiety in regard to his old partner and antagonist. "Let me go and find him." "Go ahead," said Si, helping Monty to his feet. "I'll be right with you." While Si was going back the way he had come Shorty was tearing through the tangled brush, turning over the tree-tops by main strength, searching for Pete Skidmore.
But we'll come to that presently. Let it suffice for the moment that I know how the murderer left the train. What puzzles me is to know how he got on it. We can dismiss every other passenger in the train, and we need not look for an accomplice. There were accomplices, of course, but they were not on the express. Why didn't Mr. Skidmore travel in one of the corridor coaches?" "He was too nervous.
"Orderly," said Shorty in his most conciliatory way, "if you want to do me a favor make Pete Skidmore one of the detail." "I ain't asking suggestions from you," said the Orderly, still surly. "But I shall detail Baker and Skidmore for the duty." The boys flung their things off with something like desperation in their looks.
The shots in the rear disturbed Si, who started back to see what they meant, but met Pete Skidmore and Sandy Baker coming panting up, carrying a box of cartridges between them. "We got back as quick as we could," Pete explained as he got his breath. "Just as we was coming to the train we see a rebel who was carrying a fat-pine torch, and making for the train to set it on fire. We shot him.
Tecumseh Sherman?" "As sure 's you're a foot high," replied the Wagonmaster. "And I told him to mind his own business," stammered Shorty. "Yes, and if it hadn't bin for him you'd 'a' lost us, durn it," ejaculated little Pete Skidmore. SI AND SHORTY were too glad to get their boys back, and too eager to find their regiment, to waste any time in scolding the derelicts.
George Skidmore. Ask them to call us a cab, Matthews!" The Story of a Vacation By LOUISE HAMILTON MABIE THE impression, which floated vaguely as a perfume in the wake of the departing Mr. and Mrs. Jasper Prentiss, adapted itself pleasingly to any point of view. Generally, it was thought that Katrina Prentiss was to remain at home under the eye of Grandfather McBride.
In the north transept is a doorway leading to the tower. *South Transept.*—Crossing the Cathedral in front of the Skidmore screen it is a relief to turn from the nave with its sham triforium to the south transept with its fine three stage Norman east side. The groining, although incongruous, is still beautiful, and does not irritate in the same way as Wyatt’s abominations in the nave.
The whole village now thought that Tommy had become a monomaniac upon the subject of his tombstone. Perhaps he had. No one has been able to learn from his friend, Billy Skidmore, what thoughts he may have communicated to the latter upon the matter. Tommy now lived for no other apparent purpose than to visit his tombstone daily. He no longer confined his walks thither to the pleasant days.
Skidmore had been alone in the carriage at the moment that the express left London; he was absolutely certain that he had locked the door of the compartment, and the engine driver could testify that the train had never traveled at a less speed than sixty miles an hour until the bridge over the river leading into Lydmouth station was reached; even then nobody could have dropped off the train without the risk of certain death.
Of course I see what you are driving at, Mr. Merrick. Now look here. I locked Mr. Skidmore in the carriage myself, and I can prove that nobody got in before we left London. That would have been too dangerous a game so long as the train was passing any number of brilliantly lighted stations, and by the time we got into the open we were going at sixty miles an hour.
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