At a Girl's Mercy, or, The Fortunes of War — page 88: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ATA GIRLS MERCY, | 77 alertness that filled the crouching watchers with terror. Nearer yet; his foot was almost upon them, al- — most touched Jim’s silent figure. The wind sighed > and sobbed and rustled the corn, dying away in the darkness. Nothing more. He turned aside, unmind- ful of the hearts throbbing in muffled agony of fear at his very feet. Listening, looking, he retraced his steps, conscious that something was wrong, dis- satisfied with himself that he was unable to dis- cover it. As he again passed out of earshot the crouching figures lifted themselves, controlling their trembling by a mighty effort, and crept on, and on, and on, so slowly, so stealthily, that they seemed part of the darkness. On the edge of the corn-field at last, almost down in the long river reeds that lifted themselves so high some distance back of the bank. Patience one mo- ment and all would be well. They held their breath for very terror; they scarcely dared move lest some mishap would befall them. Two, three, four of them were out and down in the .sweeping, swinging erasses that rustled softly, and waved under their feet, for they could stand erect now, but gave no sound. The boat was waiting down in the reeds, hid- den close in to the bank, and if only they could reach it in safety. A more startling, louder crash than the others, and Mississippi, who came last, fell to the ground, tripped by the long, tangled stalks of the corn at the edge. A breathless, death-like silence, a cowering of the dark forms in the swaying grass, a moment’s wait- ing that seemed like an eternity of years. The sen- Gomicbooks