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England, George Allan, 1877-1936

"The Air Trust"

For all her courage and strength, he sensed her
heart wildly beating and he felt her tears.
"Good-bye, Gabriel," she breathed. "Would I might go with you! Would
that my duty did not hold me here! Good-bye!"
Then he was gone, gone with the others, into the thickening obscurity of
the fog-shrouded evening. Now Catherine stood there alone, head bowed
and wet face hidden in both hands.
As the little fighting band disappeared, back to the girl drifted a few
words of song, soft-hummed through the dusk--the deathless chorus of the
International:
"Now comes the hour supreme!
To arms, each in his place!
The new dawn's International
Shall be the human race!..."


CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE ATTACK.

"Halt! Who goes there?"
The challenge rang sharply on the night air, outside a small gate in the
barricade of the Monck Aviation Grounds.
"Liberty!" answered Gabriel, pausing as he gave the password.
"All right, come on," said a vague figure at the gate. The little group
approached.


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