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The Crossing by Winston Churchill
page 108 of 783 (13%)
The last I saw of them that day they were going off up the trace towards
his mother's, Polly Ann keeping ahead of him and just out of his reach.
And I was very, very happy. For Tom McChesney had come back at last, and
Polly Ann was herself once more.

As long as I live I shall never forget Polly Ann's wedding.

She was all for delay, and such a bunch of coquetry as I have never seen.
She raised one objection after another; but Tom was a firm man, and his
late experiences in the wilderness had made him impatient of trifling.
He had promised the Kentucky settlers, fighting for their lives in their
blockhouses, that he would come back again. And a resolute man who was a
good shot was sorely missed in the country in those days.

It was not the thousand dangers and hardships of the journey across the
Wilderness Trail that frightened Polly Ann. Not she. Nor would she
listen to Tom when he implored her to let him return alone, to come back
for her when the redskins had got over the first furies of their hatred.
As for me, the thought of going with them into that promised land was
like wine. Wondering what the place was like, I could not sleep of
nights.

"Ain't you afeerd to go, Davy?" said Tom to me.

"You promised Polly Ann to take me," said I, indignantly.

"Davy," said he, "you ain't over handsome. 'Twouldn't improve yere looks
to be bald. They hev a way of takin' yere ha'r. Better stay behind with
Gran'pa Ripley till I kin fetch ye both."

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