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Cooper, James Fenimore, 1789-1851

"The Headsman The Abbaye des Vignerons"

A thought flashed like
lightning on the brain of Sigismund. His best hope was in the inexplicable
faculties of this animal. Throwing forward an arm, he seized the bushy
tail of the dog, and suffered himself to be dragged ahead, he knew not
whither, though he seconded the movement with his own exertions. Another
bark proclaimed that the experiment was successful, and voices, rising as
it were from the water, close at hand, announced the proximity of human
beings. The brunt of the hurricane was past, and the washing of the waves,
which had been stilled by the roar and the revelry of the winds, again
became audible.
The strength of the two struggling old men was sinking fast. The Signor
Grimaldi had, thus far, generously sustained his friend, who was less
expert than himself in the water, and he continued to cheer him with a
hope he did not feel himself, nobly refusing to the last to separate their
fortunes.
"How dost find thyself, old Melchior?" he asked. "Cheer thee, friend--I
think there is succor at hand."
The water gurgled at the mouth of the baron, who was near the gasp.


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