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Lynde, Francis, 1856-1930

"The Master of Appleby A Novel Tale Concerning Itself in Part with the Great Struggle in the Two Carolinas; but Chiefly with the Adventures Therein of Two Gentlemen Who Loved One and the Same Lady"

He was of those who slay and spare not where an enemy is
concerned.
But when we came to consider of it there seemed to be no alternative to
the eastward flitting by way of the Great Trace. To the west and south
there was only the trackless wilderness; and to the north no white
settlement nearer than that of the over-mountain folk on the Watauga. I
asked if we might hope to reach this.
"'Tis a long fifty mile ez the crow flies, over e'enabout the
mountainousest patch o' land that ever laid out o' doors," was the
hunter's reply. "And there ain't ne'er a deer-track, ez I knows on, to
p'int the way."
"Then we must ride eastward and run the risk of pursuit by the
Tuckaseges," said I.
"Ez I reckon, that's about the long and short of it. And I do
everlastedly despise to make that poor little gal jump her hoss and ride
skimper-scamper again, when she's been fair living a-horseback for a
fortnight."
"She will not fail you," I ventured to say, adding: "But Jennifer is in
poor fettle for making speed."
"It's ride or be skulped for him, and I allow he'll ride," quoth the old
hunter, hastening his preparations for the start. "Reckon we can get him
on a hoss right now."
I went to see. Margery rose at my approach, and even in the poor light I
could see her draw herself up as if she would hold me at my proper
distance.
"Your patient, Mistress Margery,--We must mount and ride at once. Is he
fit?"
"No."
"But we must be far to the eastward before daybreak.


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