Galusha was following a
terrestrial route in the same direction. Now Raish followed Galusha and
after him rolled Captain Jethro Hallett. As they say in hunting stories,
the chase was on.
It was not a long chase, of course. It ended unexpectedly--unexpectedly
for Galusha, that is--at a point where a spur of the pine grove jutted
out upon the crest of a little hill beyond the eastern border of the
cemetery. The hat rolled, bounced, dipped and soared up the hill and
just clear of the branches of the endmost pine. Then it disappeared from
sight. Its owner breathlessly panted after it. He reached the crest of
the little hill and stopped short--stopped for the very good reason that
he could go no further.
The hill was but half a hill. Its other half, the half invisible from
the churchyard, was a sheer sand and clay bluff dropping at a dizzy
angle down to the beach a hundred and thirty feet below. This beach was
the shore of a pretty little harbor, fed by a stream which flowed into
it from the southwest. On the opposite side of the stream was another
stretch of beach, more sand bluffs, pines and scrub oaks. To the east
the little harbor opened a clear channel between lines of creaming
breakers to the deep blue and green of the ocean.
Galusha Bangs saw most of this in detail upon subsequent visits. Just
now he looked first for his hat.
Pages:
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113