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Catherwood, Mary Hartwell, 1847-1902

"Old Caravan Days"


"'All right. Here she is!' says the foremost man, and in they all
went. I heard them stumble as they stepped down, and one began to
blame the others for crowdin' after him when they ought to stopped at
the mouth to ketch me if I slipped through his fingers.
"I don't know to this hour how I did it," exclaimed the toll-woman,
fanning herself, "nor when I thought of it. But the first thing I
felt sure of I had that door slammed to, and the key turned in the
padlock, and them three robbers was ketched like mice in a trap,
instead of it's bein' me!"
Robert Day gave a chuckle of satisfaction, but aunt Corinne braced
herself against the door-frame and gazed upon the magic cave with
still wider eyes.
"Did they yell?" inquired Bobaday.
"It ain't fit to tell," resumed the toll-woman, "what awful language
them men used; and they kicked the door and the boards until I
thought break through they would if they had to heave the whole
weight, of dirt and sod out of the top. Then I heard somebody comin'
along the 'pike, and for a minute I felt real discouraged; for,
thinks I, if there's more engaged to help them, what's a poor body to
do?
"But 'twas a couple of stock-men, riding home, and they stopped at
the gate, and I run through the open house to tell my story, and it
didn't take long for them with pistols in their pockets and big black
whips loaded with lead in the handles, to get the fellows out and tie
'em up firm.


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