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You see we was brought up neighbors, an' we went to school together, the Brays an' me. 'T was a special Providence brought us home this road, I've been so covetin' a chance to git to see 'em. My lameness hampers me." "I'm glad we come this way, myself," said Mrs. Trimble. "I'd like to see just how they fare," Miss Rebecca Wright continued.
She was hugging the land so closely that some of us were of opinion that her skipper intended to run her ashore and take to his boats if it should prove impossible to avoid capture in any other way; but the Captain did not believe this, and the master also seemed to be of his opinion. "His object," said Trimble, "is undoubtedly to get round Point Espada and fairly into the Gulf.
"There was the Trimble gang ten of 'em the worst outfit of desperadoes and horse-thieves in Texas, coming up the street shooting right and left. They was coming right straight for the Gray Mule. Then they got past the range of my sight, but we heard 'em ride up to the front door, and then they socked the place full of lead.
"We shall waste no time in finding her. We had better bide where we are a few hours, eh, Trimble?" "Aye, and double back up the stream in the canoe to spend the night on dry land and push on afoot at dawn. If we wait to sight Blackbeard's boats come in from sea, 'twill aid us to reckon how far out they went and what the bearings are."
Steuart, with the two regiments that had done such service at Front Royal, was with Ewell and Trimble; but although Donnelly's regiments could be seen retiring in good order, they were not followed by a single sabre. Despatching an aide-de-camp to order Steuart to the front, Jackson called up his batteries. The infantry, too, was hurried forward, in order to prevent the Federals rallying.
The only sounds in the bayou were the trickle of water from the tidal pools, the wind in the tree-tops, the rat-tat-tat of a woodpecker, and the scream of a bob-cat. With a foolish air of chagrin, Trimble Rogers rubbed his hoary pate and exclaimed: "Whilst Bill and me were a-paddlin' this hollow log down-stream, we took no heed of a fork like this yonder.
"Sit down under this shady apple tree," said Mrs. Trimble, "and help yourselves. Maybe you'd like a glass of milk," she said to Mr. Brown. "Well, I don't care much for milk, except in my tea and coffee," he said. "Thank you, just the same." "How about buttermilk?" asked Mr. Trimble. "That's what I like on a hot day, and she's just churned."
Honor, then honor, sir, I say again, to the unexampled faith, truth, and high principle of the industrious Irish peasant, who, in no instance, even although the broad Atlantic has been placed between them, has been known to defraud James Trimble of a single shilling.
"It concerns Stede Bonnet," murmured Jack, reading the motive of this secret errand. "Yes, you are bound to befriend him, Jack, on your honor as a gentleman." "He has been warned to keep clear of Charles Town, Dorothy. Trimble Rogers has gone off to meet him." "But it is worse than that. The keeper of the gaol, Jason Cutter, was closeted with my father this morning.
And if we find Tom we'll bring him back with us. That man has no right to keep him!" The shortest way to go to the Trimble farm was to row across the lake in the boat, and then to walk a little distance through the wood. Mr. Brown, with Bunny and Sue, started, with Bunker Blue at the oars, dipping them in the water, pulling hard on them, and lifting them out for another dip.
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