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Rudder Grange | Frank R. Stockton | |
Treating of a Novel Style of Boarder |
Page 3 of 5 |
The man called after me and I stopped. I could but stop, no matter what I might hear. "Hello, mister," he said, "got any tobacco?" I walked up to him. I took hold of him by the lapel of his coat. It was a dirty lapel, as I remember even now, but I didn't mind that. "Look here," said I. "Tell me the truth, I can bear it. Was that vessel wrecked?" The man looked at me a little queerly. I could not exactly interpret his expression. "You're sure you kin bear it?" said he. "Yes," said I, my hand trembling as I held his coat. "Well, then," said he, "it's mor'n I kin," and he jerked his coat out of my hand, and sprang away. When he reached the other side of the road, he turned and shouted at me, as though I had been deaf. "Do you know what I think?" he yelled. "I think you're a darned lunatic," and with that he went his way. I hastened on to Peter's Point. Long before I reached it, I saw the boat. It was apparently deserted. But still I pressed on. I must know the worst. When I reached the Point, I found that the boat had run aground, with her head in among the long reeds and mud, and the rest of her hull lying at an angle from the shore. There was consequently no way for me to get on board, but to wade through the mud and reeds to her bow, and then climb up as well as I could. |
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Rudder Grange Frank R. Stockton |
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