Mrs. Bob: A Novel — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

8 THE OLD STORY REVERSED. > hour ago—even then I thought it had a familiar look and marked it. When I saw that paper fluttering in the breeze I felt like shouting at sight of an old friend. Lost—you couldn’t lose me in this place— give me an hour and I'll bring up at this spot every time. The great question with meis how shall I leave the woods ?”’ The man has laid his gun against a tree some ten feet away—his action declares that he can hardly be an old campaigner in this section. His appearance stamps him an amateur sportsman —all his accoutrements are new and stiff, and while they give him the look of a mighty Nimrod, it would only require some old native with a government musket to distance him out of sight in a match. Under the canvas helmet which he wears can be seen a face which, if not handsome, is at least reso- lute and good natured. No one ever found Bob Pemberton anything but genial—he can crack jokes at any fireside, and seems to get more humor out of the square inch than most people. Now and then, while hesits here, he chuckles. ‘“Wonder what John is doing at this blessed mo- ment—I can imagine him floundering about up to his arm pits in a swamp, or, horrors! what if he were right, after all, and while I am wandering in this dis- mal wilderness, with night coming on, he is enjoying the society of Miss Gordon, at her forest lodge. What a queer notion, to have a lodge in the wilderness— and yet I’ve an idea we’ll find hera remarkenig young woman. Gomichbooks..com