Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 23, 2025
Years passed quietly, and nothing further happened to disturb Robinson, or to make him think more of the footprint that had frightened him so much. But he kept more than formerly to the interior of the island, and lost no chance of looking for good places to hide in, if he should ever need them. And he always carried a cutlass now, as well as his gun and a couple of pistols.
Middleton looked down and saw something, indeed, very like the shape of a footprint, with a hue very like that of blood. It was a twilight sort of a place, beneath a porch, which was much overshadowed by trees and shrubbery. It might have been blood; but he rather thought, in his wicked skepticism, that it was a natural, reddish stain in the stone.
Again Leslie had bent over the footprint. "She was coming in when she made it. Do you notice that it points toward the door?" Phyllis stared at her. "What a perfectly dandy detective you'd make!" she exclaimed. "You simply take in everything!" "You're just as good and even better!" laughed Leslie, secretly pleased, however. "Hurrah for us!" cried Phyllis.
"Oh!" said he in a stifled voice, "a man's footprint!" "Exactly. And this fellow wore the finest of boots. See that imprint, how clear, how neat it is!" Worthy Father Absinthe was scratching his ear furiously, his usual method of quickening his rather slow wits. "But it seems to me," he ventured to say at last, "that this individual was not coming from this ill-fated hovel."
Now, if I hadn't been a scout I would have gone home and played tennis or followed the shore up to the club landing and waited for the troop to come and go to work on the houseboat. But instead of that, I kept looking around and pretty soon what do you think I saw? I saw a footprint. Some Robinson Crusoe, hey? It was a funny kind of a footprint.
For the man might have been alive to-day, though he would have been old and bent no doubt; for he was a thick-set man, and must have been strong. He had, indeed, carried his lead up from the road that runs by the Guadelle river. Was he not to be traced all the way up the short cut through the olive terraces by one bloody footprint at regular intervals?
What Victoria Crosses, what Iron Crosses were won there, by deeds whose memory deserved to last as long as the race endures, God only knows one trusts that the great scheme of things provides some record of such a sacrifice. Here the trench divided. There was no sign of a footprint either way.
Earth's mountains are levelled, and her seas filled up, in our passage: can the Earth, which is but dead and a vision, resist Spirits which have reality and are alive? On the hardest adamant some footprint of us is stamped in; the last Rear of the host will read traces of the earliest Van. But whence? O Heaven whither?
"I remember reading about it being outside of Sandy Hook." "Do you suppose we are outside of anything?" asked Helen. "I feel we are tied with a drawstring in nature's hip pocket." "Here's a footprint," called Cleo. "Just look; here's a sign!" All ran toward her and found tacked on a tree a crudely marked cardboard. On this they managed to decipher the words, "Peter Pan" and "Take me to Mama."
Here's the squelchy mark of a man's boot, and here's another!" They followed the track onward, with perfect ease, for the marshy ground was sodden and took every footprint deeply. That some man had crossed this way, and recently, too, was perfectly plain. The footprints wavered a little that was all, showing that the man who made them was uncertain upon his feet.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking