"Ha, ha! Lord Mar mont thun der ed thou too shalt suf fer all that
this poor--"
I sprang out of bed.
Euphemia thought I was going for my pistol, and she gave one bound
and stuck her head out of the door.
"Pomona, fly!" she cried.
"Yes, sma'am," said Pomona; and she got up and flew--not very fast,
I imagine. Where she flew to I don't know, but she took the lamp
with her, and I could hear distant syllables of agony and blood,
until the boarder came home and Pomona went to bed.
I think that this made an impression upon Euphemia, for, although
she did not speak to me upon the subject (or any other) that night,
the next time I heard Pomona reading, the words ran somewhat thus:
"The as ton ish ing che ap ness of land is ac count ed for by the
want of home mar kets, of good ro ads and che ap me ans of trans
por ta ti on in ma ny sec ti ons of the State."
CHAPTER IV.
TREATING OF A NOVEL STYLE OF BURGLAR.
I have spoken of my pistol. During the early part of our residence
at Rudder Grange I never thought of such a thing as owning a
pistol.
But it was different now. I kept a Colt's revolver loaded in the
bureau drawer in our bedroom.
The cause of this change was burglars. Not that any of these
unpleasant persons had visited us, but we much feared they would.
Several houses in the vicinity had been entered during the past
month, and we could never tell when our turn would come.
To be sure, our boarder suggested that if we were to anchor out a
little further at night, no burglar would risk catching his death
of cold by swimming out to us; but Euphemia having replied that it
would be rather difficult to move a canal-boat every night without
paddle-wheels, or sails, or mules, especially if it were aground,
this plan was considered to be effectually disposed of.
Pages:
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52