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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"Gordon Craig Soldier of Fortune"

" We
were at the foot of the front steps, the building itself looming black
before us, almost before we realized its nearness. I could perceive
the outlines indistinctly, and the deserted desolation affected me
strangely. Perhaps some of the negro's superstition had got into my
blood, for I felt my heart leap when the girl suddenly sobbed,
clutching me in an agony of fear. Yet the very knowledge of her fright
stiffened my resolution, and I dropped the grips to clasp both her
hands.
"Don't!" I insisted. "I know the place looks leery enough, but Pete
said the overseer and housekeeper were here. Doubtless they are in the
back rooms. Wait here until I go up and rouse them."
"Oh, no; I could not stand it to be left alone."
"All right; here, take my hand, and we 'll go up together."
They were broad wooden steps, leading to a wide porch, the roof
supported by heavy columns. Beyond was the dark bulk of the house,
shapeless in the gloom. We were within a single step of the top when a
man--seemingly a huge figure--suddenly emerged from the shadow of a
column, and confronted us.
"What ther hell," he ejaculated sullenly, "are you doin' here?"
I paused with foot uplifted, too astounded at the apparition to
respond, conscious my companion had shrunk behind.


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