'Well, then, why is he running away?' asked Gideon.
'His horse bolted, I suppose,' said the Squirradical.
'Nonsense! I heard the whip going like a flail,' said Gideon. 'It simply
defies the human reason.'
'I'll tell you,' broke in the girl, 'he came round that corner. Suppose
we went and--what do you call it in books?--followed his trail? There
may be a house there, or somebody who saw him, or something.'
'Well, suppose we did, for the fun of the thing,' said Gideon.
The fun of the thing (it would appear) consisted in the extremely close
juxtaposition of himself and Miss Hazeltine. To Uncle Ned, who was
excluded from these simple pleasures, the excursion appeared hopeless
from the first; and when a fresh perspective of darkness opened up,
dimly contained between park palings on the one side and a hedge and
ditch upon the other, the whole without the smallest signal of human
habitation, the Squirradical drew up.
'This is a wild-goose chase,' said he.
With the cessation of the footfalls, another sound smote upon their
ears.
'O, what's that?' cried Julia.
'I can't think,' said Gideon.
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