At a Girl's Mercy, or, The Fortunes of War — page 86: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

5% ' AT A GIRL’S MERCY. 75 yo’ ter,”’ he said presently. ‘‘N obuddy’d tak’ yo’ fer nothin’ but a lot o’ men,” and he, too, laughed noiselessly. ‘‘Why dedn’t yo’ cum befo’, Lola?” ~ We’s come right down’s soon as we heard yo’,”’ Lola said, still in the strange, weird whisper that ran in with the sound of the wind, though audible to her companion. ‘‘We hed ter cum slow, J im, an’ caut’ous fer fear they’s watching us. Dey’s had dar eyes on us fer some time, an’ we cum car’ful—spec- ial car’fu’ fer dat.”’ “They’s waitin’ fer us,’ Jim said presently, tak- ing the girl’s small bundle, which she explained contained all the food she could get without rousing suspicion, as they started across the wide old gar- den like formless shadows. ‘‘Keep still, an’ do as yo’ see me do. De sojers is near us, an’ wes ain’ goin’ ter git cotched ef wes kin help et.” Down through the garden, brushing under the low hung trees, bringing down a misty shower upon their shoulders, creeping through the thick hedge that fenced in the lawn from the field, and so, _ stealthily, silently, slowly they made their way, every sudden sigh of the wind, every sharp touch of the mist thrilling them with terror and a deadly sickness lest they be discovered. A dog bayed back in the kennels, and an icy chill took hold of their hearts. The blood-hounds! Were they loosening them? Were they on their track so soon? But the mournful cry died away; the night was still again, and the fugitives crept on with bated breath. Crack-crackle, erunch, crunch. It was startlingly loud. Jim dropped like a noiseless shadow flat on his face, and those behind him fol- lowed his example. They were in a corn-field, and the stalks, bent on the ground by the wind, broke Gomicbooks (e(@)