"Sparks from a locomotive, I suppose."
"You don't say so--in all this rain!"
Five minutes later he left the store and disappeared down the road which
led to Chattanooga. Then he climbed a fence and made his way across the
fields to a road which ran north. For a half-hour he plodded through the
mud. The strain of the long day was commencing to tell upon him, and each
step forward cost a mighty effort. The hunks of mud which accumulated on
his shoes felt like blocks of lead weighing him down.
"About enough for this day," he mumbled to himself. Ahead of him he saw a
barn, standing a few yards from the road. Farther along, perhaps a hundred
yards, was the house with its lighted windows. He walked close to the rail
fence and approached the barn cautiously, listening for dogs; then he
crawled under the fence and squatted there, waiting. It was still light
enough for him to be seen from the house, and so he decided not to make the
rush for the barn until later. Several minutes passed, then he heard the
sound of boots splashing along the muddy road, and the mumble of voices. He
threw himself on the wet sod and lay there, hidden by the weeds and
darkness. The voices came near.
Tom caught the words ".
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