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Irving, Washington, 1783-1859

"Tales of a Traveller"

In this way he remained, with his round black face peering over
the edge of the rock, like the sun just emerging above the edge of the
horizon, or the round-cheeked moon on the dial of a clock.
The red-caps had nearly finished their work; the grave was filled up,
and they were carefully replacing the turf. This done, they scattered
dry leaves over the place. "And now," said the leader, "I defy the
devil himself to find it out."
"The murderers!" exclaimed Sam involuntarily.
The whole gang started, and looking up, beheld the round black head of
Sam just above them. His white eyes strained half out of their orbits;
his white teeth chattering, and his whole visage shining with cold
perspiration.
"We're discovered!" cried one.
"Down with him!" cried another.
Sam heard the cocking of a pistol, but did not pause for the report. He
scrambled over rock and stone, through bush and briar; rolled down
banks like a hedgehog; scrambled up others like a catamount. In every
direction he heard some one or other of the gang hemming him in. At
length he reached the rocky ridge along the river; one of the red-caps
was hard behind him. A steep rock like a wall rose directly in his way;
it seemed to cut off all retreat, when he espied the strong cord-like
branch of a grape-vine reaching half way down it. He sprang at it with
the force of a desperate man, seized it with both hands, and being
young and agile, succeeded in swinging himself to the summit of the
cliff.


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