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D'Ri and I by Irving Bacheller
page 33 of 261 (12%)
shoulder and put me in a panic. Turning over, I got a big mouthful
of water. Then I saw it was a gang of logs passing me, and quickly
caught one. Now, to me the top side of a log was as easy and
familiar as a rocking-chair. In a moment I was sitting comfortably
on my captive. A bit of rubbish, like that the wind had sown,
trailed after the gang of logs, I felt it over, finding a straw hat
and a piece of board some three feet long, with which latter I
paddled vigorously.

It must have been long past midnight when I came to an island
looming in the dark ahead. I sculled for it, stranding on a rocky
beach, and alighted, hauling the log ashore. The moon came out as
I stood wringing my trouser legs. I saw the island rose high and
narrow and was thickly wooded. I remember saying something to
myself, when I heard a quick stir in the bushes near me. Looking
up, I saw a tall figure. Then came a familiar voice:--

"Thet you, Ray? Judas Priest!"

I was filled with joy at the sight of D'ri, and put my arms about
him and lifted him off his feet, and, faith! I know my eyes were
wet as my trousers. Then, as we sat down, I told him how I had
taken to the river.

"Lucky ye done it!" said he. "Jerushy Jane! It is terrible lucky!
They 'd 'a' tuk ye sartin. Somebody see thet jack on the back o'
my hand, there 'n Cornwall, 'n' put 'em efter me. But I was bound
'n' detarmined they 'd never tek me alive, never! Ef I ever dew
any fightin', 't ain't a-goin' t' be fer England, nut by a side o'
sole-leather. I med up my mind I 'd begin the war right then an'
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