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Chapter 21

           

           “Eh,man,”saidI,drollingwithhimalittle,“you’reveryingenious!Butwoulditnotbesimplerforyoutowritehimafewwordsinblackandwhite?”

           “Andthatisanexcellentobserve,Mr.BalfourofShaws,”saysAlan,drollingwithme;“anditwouldcertainlybemuchsimplerformetowritetohim,butitwouldbeasorejobforJohnBrecktoreadit.Hewouldhavetogototheschoolfortwo-threeyears;andit’spossiblewemightbeweariedwaitingonhim.”

           SothatnightAlancarrieddownhisfierycrossandsetitinthebouman’swindow.Hewastroubledwhenhecameback;forthedogshadbarkedandthefolkrunoutfromtheirhouses;andhethoughthehadheardaclatterofarmsandseenared-coatcometooneofthedoors.Onallaccountswelaythenextdayinthebordersofthewoodandkeptacloselook-out,sothatifitwasJohnBreckthatcamewemightbereadytoguidehim,andifitwasthered-coatsweshouldhavetimetogetaway.

           Aboutnoonamanwastobespied,stragglinguptheopensideofthemountaininthesun,andlookingroundhimashecame,fromunderhishand.NosoonerhadAlanseenhimthanhewhistled;themanturnedandcamealittletowardsus:thenAlanwouldgiveanother“peep!”andthemanwouldcomestillnearer;andsobythesoundofwhistling,hewasguidedtothespotwherewelay.

           Hewasaragged,wild,beardedman,aboutforty,grosslydisfiguredwiththesmallpox,andlookedbothdullandsavage.

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