Commodore Junk — page 100: what you’re looking at

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

THE PURSUIT. 93 have hung back had not Bart lifted her bodily in after wading into the mud, where he stood and held the side of the frail canoe. ‘¢ Now, Abe,” he whispered. “T can hear them,” shouted a voice. ‘Loose the dogs. Seize ’em, boys, seize ’em !” ‘Here, room for me?” whispered Dinny. “No,” cried Abel, fiercely. ‘Keep back!” “ T’m coming wid you,” cried Dinny. Bart caught him by the shoulder. “No, no, my lad, we're escaping; this is no place for you.” ‘‘ Be my sowl, this isn’t,” said Dinny, shaking himself free, “nd seizing the side of the boat he began to wade and thrust her from the shore. ‘In with you too.” Bart said no more, but followed the Irishman’s example, and together they waded on into the muddy creek, only to get a few yards from the shore, as with a furious rush the dogs crushed through the canes and reeds, to stop, breast-deep, bark- ing savagely. ‘‘Purty creatures!” whispered Dinny. “Sure, and we musn’t get in yet, or, if we do, it must be together. Push her on.” ‘¢ Halt, there!” cried a loud voice, suddenly, ‘I have you. Down, dogs! Do you hear? Halt!” ‘“‘ Kape on,” whispered Dinny. “Make ready!” cried the same voice. “Present! Will you surrender ?” “Tie down, me darlins,” whispered Dinny. ‘ Divil a bit can they see where to shoot.” “Fire!” cried the same voice, and a dozen flashes of light blazed out of the cane-brake. There was a roar that seemed deafening, and the darkness was once more opaque. Eomicbooks