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Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander), 1862-1919

"A story of the civil war's eve"

But the hammer was cocked, and it was held by a
pair of large, calloused, and steady hands, belonging to a tall, thin
man with powerful shoulders and a bearded face.
There was no help for it. The boy dropped the reins, raised his hands
over his head and walked into the hut, where the rain at least did not
reach him. It was a rude place of a single room, with a fire-place at
one end, a bed in a corner, a small pine table on which a candle burned,
and clothing and dried herbs hanging from hooks on the wall. The man
wore only a shirt and trousers, and he looked unkempt and wild, but he
was a resolute figure.
"Stand over thar, close to the light, whar I kin see you," he said.
Harry moved over, and the muzzle of the rifle followed him. The man
could look down the sights of his rifle and at the same time examine his
visitor, which he did with thoroughness.
"Now, then, Johnny Reb," he said, "what are you doin' here this time o'
night an' in such weather as this, wakin' honest citizens out o' their
beds?"
"Nothing but stand before the muzzle of your rifle."
The man grinned. The answer seemed to appeal to him, and he lowered the
weapon, although he did not relax his watchfulness.


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