Wringhim came rushing through the thicket impetuously, to the
very spot where Mrs. Logan lay squatted. She held the wrapping
close about her head, but he tore it off and discovered her. "The
curse of God be on thee!" said he. "What fiend has brought thee
here, and for what purpose art thou come? But, whatever has
brought thee, I have thee!" and with that he seized her by the
throat. The two women, when they heard what jeopardy they
were in from such a wretch, had squatted among the underwood
at a small distance from each other, so that he had never observed
Mrs. Calvert; but, no sooner had he seized her benefactor, than,
like a wild cat, she sprung out of the thicket, and had both hands
fixed at his throat, one of them twisted in his stock, in a
twinkling. She brought him back-over among the brushwood, and
the two, fixing on him like two harpies, mastered him with case.
Then indeed was he woefully beset. He deemed for a while that
his friend was at his back, and, turning his bloodshot eyes
towards the path, he attempted to call; but there was no friend
there, and the women cut short his cries by another twist of his
stock.
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