Cautiously I crept along the fence until
I discovered an opening large enough to crawl through, scarcely rustling
the concealing leaves, and resting flat on the opposite side while I
surveyed the prospect. I was not far now from the south wall of the
stable, which loomed black and shapeless against the sky. Not a movement
revealed the whereabouts of the guard, and, with the girl's description
to guide me, I concluded the fellow would be stationed at the other
extremity of the building. Convinced as to this probability I dragged my
body slowly forward until I could touch the log wall. I could see better
now, being myself in the denser shadow, and knew the passage was clear
to the corner.
Assured of this I rose to my feet, revolver in hand, and pressing close
against the side of the building, advanced quickly and silently. At the
corner I peered about, scarcely daring to breathe, but with heart
pounding, as I caught sight of the fellow, not over three feet distant.
He was seated on an overturned bucket, his back toward me, both hands
clasping a musket, his head bent slightly forward. He seemed listening
to some noise in the distance, totally unconscious of my approach. The
man's fingers were nowhere near the trigger of his gun, and my straining
eyes could perceive no sign of any other weapon.
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