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Grey, Zane, 1872-1939

"The Young Forester"

Then I saw Bill and Herky
running up the gorge, and, farther down, Bud staggering and lurching.
This lent me wings. In two jumps I had grabbed my rifle; then, turning, I
ran round the pool, and started up the one place in the steep wall where
climbing was possible. Above the yells of the men I heard Dick's piercing
cry:
"Go-go-go, Ken!"
I sent the loose rocks down in my flight. Here I leaped up; there I ran
along a little ledge; in another place I climbed hand and foot. The last
few yards was a gravelly incline. I seemed to slide back as much as I
gained.
"Come back hyar!" bawled Bill.
Crack! Crack! Crack . . . The reports rang out in quick succession. A
bullet whistled over me, another struck the gravel and sent a shower of
dust into my face. I pitched my rifle up over the bank and began to dig my
fingers and toes into the loose ground. As I gained the top two more
bullets sang past my head so close that I knew Bill was aiming to more than
scare me. I dragged myself over the edge and was safe.
The canyon, with its dense thickets and scrubby clumps of trees, lay below
in plain sight. Once hidden there, I would be hard to find. Picking up my
rifle, I ran swiftly along the base of the slope and soon gained the cover
of the woods.

XI. THE OLD HUNTER
I ran till I got a stitch in my side, and then slowed down to a dog-trot.


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