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Harry Heathcote of Gangoil by Anthony Trollope
page 18 of 150 (12%)
said Jacko to himself, "it's easy done, anyway."

Harry went on to the left for about half a mile, and then stood
leaning against the fence. It was very dark, but he was now looking
over into an inclosure which had been altogether cleared of trees,
and which, as he knew well, had been cultivated and was covered with
sugar-canes. Where he stood he was not distant above a quarter of a
mile from the river, and the field before him ran down to the banks.
This was the selected land of Giles Medlicot--two years since a
portion of his own run, which had now been purchased from the
government--for the loss of which he had received and was entitled to
receive no compensation. And the matter was made worse for him by the
fact that the interloper had come between him and the river. But he
was not standing here near midnight merely to exercise his wrath by
straining his eyes through the darkness at his neighbor's crops. He
put his finger into his mouth to wet it, and then held it up that he
might discover which way the light breath of wind was coming. There
was still the low moan to be heard continually through the forest,
and yet not a leaf seemed to be moved. After a while he thought he
caught a sound, and put his ear down to the ground. He distinctly
heard a footstep, and rising up, walked quickly toward the spot
whence the noise came.

"Who's that?" he said, as he saw the figure of a man standing on his
side of the fence, and leaning against it, with a pipe in his month.

"Who are you?" replied the man on the fence. "My name is Medlicot."

"Oh, Mr. Medlicot, is it?"

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