He stooped and felt on the ground in the
darkness and rain, for a stick, by means of which to tighten it still
more; for the bleeding, though considerably checked, was by no means
stanched. But sticks, stones, and every kind of litter, had long been
banished thence; his fingers came in contact with nothing but the smooth,
velvety turf, and with a muttered curse, he rose and fled again; for the
flashing of lights, the loud ringing of a bell, peal after peal, and
sounds of running feet and many voices in high excited tones, told him
there was danger of a quick and hot pursuit.
Clearing the lawn, he presently struck into a bridle-path that led to the
woods. Here he again paused to search for the much-needed stick, found one
suited to his purpose, and by its aid succeeded in decreasing still more
the drain upon his life current; yet could not stop the flow entirely.
But sounds of pursuit began to be heard in the distance, and he hastened
on again, panting with weakness, pain and affright. Leaving the path, he
plunged deeper into the woods, ran for some distance along the edge of a
swamp, and leaping in up to his knees in mud and water, doubled on his
track, then turned again, and penetrating farther and farther into the
depths of the morass, finally climbed a tree, groaning with the pain the
effort cost him, and concealed himself among the branches.
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