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Beach, Rex Ellingwood, 1877-1949

"Going Some"

What heed would these nomads pay to Jack
Chapin's commands, once they learned the truth? They were Arabs
who owed allegiance to no one but themselves, the country was
wild, the law was feeble, it was twenty miles to the railroad!
And, besides, the thought of confession was abhorrent. Physical
injury, no matter how severe, was infinitely preferable to Helen
Blake's disdain. He cast about desperately for some saving
loophole, but found himself trapped--completely, hopelessly
trapped.
There were still, however, two days of grace, and to youth two
days is an eternity. Therefore, he closed his eyes and trusted to
the unexpected. How the unexpected could get past that grim,
watchful sentry just outside the door he could not imagine, but
when the breakfast-bell reminded him of his hunger, he banished
his fears for the sake of the edibles his custodians had served.
"Don't you want anything to eat?" he inquired, when Larry made no
move to depart for the cook-house.
"No."
"Not hungry, eh?"
"I'm hungry enough to eat a plush cushion, but--"
"What?"
"Mary!"
"Mariedetta?"
"Sure.


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