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The Way of an Eagle by Ethel M. (Ethel May) Dell
page 49 of 441 (11%)

"Call me Nick, won't you?" he said. "It'll make things easier. You are
quite welcome to know my plans, such as they are. I haven't managed
to develop anything very ingenious during all these hours. You see we
are, to a certain extent, at the mercy of circumstances. This place
isn't more than a dozen miles from the fort, and the hills all round
are infested with tribesmen. I hoped at first that we should get clear
in the night, but you were asleep, and on the whole it seemed best to
lie up for another day. We might make a bolt for it to-morrow night if
all goes well. I have a sort of instinct for these mountains. There is
always plenty of cover for those who know how to find it. It will be
slow progress, of course, but we will keep moving south, and, given
luck, we may fall in with Bassett's relief column before many days."

So with much serenity he disclosed his plans, and Muriel marvelled
afresh at the confidence that buoyed him up. Was he really as
sublimely free from anxiety as he wished her to believe, she wondered?
It was difficult to think otherwise, even though he had admitted that
they were governed by circumstance. She began to think that there was
magic in him, some hidden reserve force upon which he could always
draw when all other resources failed.

Another matter had also caught her attention, and this she presently
decided to investigate. She had never thought of Nick Ratcliffe as in
any sense a remarkable person before.

"Did you actually carry me ten miles?" she asked.

"Something very near it," said Nick.

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