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Reeve, Arthur B. (Arthur Benjamin), 1880-1936

"Guy Garrick"

Still, if it
was hard for us now, it must have been equally hard for them as
they broke through in the first place.
At last we came to the end of the woods. The trail was now fresher
than ever, and Dillon had difficulty in holding Cherry back so
that the rest of us could follow. As we emerged from the shadow of
the trees into the open field, it seemed as if guns were blazing
on all sides of us.
We were almost up with them. They had separated and were not half
a mile away, firing at random in our direction, as they heard the
dogs. Dillon drew up, Cherry tugging ahead. He turned to the
Airedales. They had already taken in the situation, and were now
darting ahead at what they could see, if not scent.
I felt a "ping!" on my chest. I scarcely realized what it was
until I heard something drop the next instant in the stubble at my
feet, and felt a smarting sensation as if a sharp blow had struck
me. I bent down and from the stubble picked up a distorted bullet.
"These bullet-proof coats are some good, anyhow, at a distance,"
remarked Garrick, close beside me, as he took the bullet from my
fingers.


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