Then the dog had gone away. Curiosity,—the besetting trait of the cat tribe,—had mastered the crevice’s dweller. The wildcat had wriggled noiselessly forward a little way, to learn what manner of enemy had invaded its lair. And peering out, it had beheld a spindling child; a human atom without strength or weapon.


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Then, as they came to a ten-foot cliff, at the base of the peak’s last stiff climb, they halted and looked miserably upward. Along the face of this rock wall a narrow rudimentary trail ran, from bottom to top; a widened rock-fissure. The fox and the collie were wont to take it almost at a bound.

With a wild wrench he drove his arms into the sleeves of the coat he had just rescued. In the same series of motions—and bawling an assortment of expletives, which Link hoped Dorcas and Olive might not understand—the dog catcher made a wild rush for his escaped captives, picking up and brandishing the landing net as he ran.

The tree tops were near at hand. The parachute had acquired a rhythmic swing and was falling more rapidly.

"Yes, sir." Hartford spoke to his men: "First squad, lead scout, forward to the gate."

"By no means. That was the trouble with some of the early chess-playing machines—they were programmed by scientists. No, Simon Great is a psychologist who at one time was a leading contender for the world's chess championship. I think WBM was surprisingly shrewd to pick him for the programming job. Let me tell you—No, better yet—"

While on one side of Bethnal Green Road the hucksters were shouting and the crowd was busy dickering and chaffering for food and clothes, I noticed on the other side of the street a wayside preacher. I went over and listened to what he had to say, and then I noted the effect of his words upon his hearers. He had gathered about him perhaps a dozen persons, most of them, however, seeming to be his own adherents who had come out to the meeting merely to give him the benefit of their moral support. The great mass of the people who passed up and down the street did not pay the slightest attention to him. There was no doubt about the earnestness and sincerity of the man, but as I listened to what he had to say I could find in his words nothing that seemed to me to touch in any direct or definite way the lives of the people about him. In fact, I doubted whether the majority of them could really understand what he was talking about.

I was so overcome I could not help bursting into tears, through which I sobbed: "Dear, dear Father Urbani. I will go with you anywhere, but I will never take a Mule or a Horse!"

"But—but the great and Never-Mistaken Glen-U—"

Near five scores of years have gone by since a poor, plain babe was born in a log hut on the banks of a small stream known as the “Big South Fork” of No-lin’s Creek. This was in Ken-tuc-ky and in what is now La-rue Coun-ty.

Thus it has happened in my own case also in some but not in many instances, in which I have had to express an opinion respecting the character of works which appeared after 1860, and which to some extent influenced my judgment on the years immediately preceding them. But this was from fifteen to eighteen years ago when I was working at my History. It might perhaps be expected that I should remove all such expressions of opinion from the work before it is translated. In some few cases, in which this could be effected by simply drawing the pen through a few lines, I have so done; but it appeared to me that to alter with anxious care every sentence which I should put into a different form at the present day would serve no good

"That's what I'm afraid of," Retief said. "They're not going to sit still and watch it happen. If I don't take back concrete evidence of Corps backing, we're going to have a nice hot little shooting war on our hands."




none of the freshness and health that I noticed so frequently among the girls at work in the fields.




The End


. . .