unawares, as some famous figures, puppets of fate, have been tossed from heights to depths of human experience without once knowing what was happening to them—forfeiting a crown by the insistence on some prescribed ceremonial, or by carrying on their flight a certain monumental dressing-case.
"And we sha'n't come back till there's a new head master?"
While Scaggs was discussing his plans with Colonel Trabue, the Colonel was patiently awaiting the return of his son, John Trabue, a lad of thirteen, who had been sent to one of the neighbors to borrow some flour and seed beans. The boy was accompanied by a small dog, and, in the midst of the discussion, the dog walked into the yard badly wounded. [12E] An investigation was immediately made. The neighbor reported that the boy had left the house a few hours before with the flour and beans. All efforts made that night to find him were futile. They began to suspect that he might have been kidnapped by the Harpes. The search continued for many days, but all in vain. Evidence of the Harpes was discovered by George Spears and five other men about fifteen miles southwest of the Trabue farm, near the East Fork of Barren River, where the outlaws had killed a calf and made moccasins out of the skin, leaving their old moccasins behind. The footprints indicated the presence of two men, but there were no signs to show that a boy was with them. 
in a few brief months would be his, was sure to be more e-ven than that which fell to the first great Chief, George Wash-ing-ton. There were times when he spent whole days in deep thought, si-lent and sad.
She kissed him lightly on the forehead. "I will think and remember the whole time," she reassured him. "You needn't feel one bit afraid. I shall have heaps to do without bothering about men. I'm going to hem dozens of dusters, and the Padre's wife has promised to teach me no end
She opened her blue eyes big, and shuk her hed mysteerissly.
Nef stood. "The Decontamination Vehicle should be standing by," he said. "Get Piacentelli outside. We may be able to save him." He sounded unhopeful.
“My God, Mr. John” I exclaimed involuntarararily “Are you sun struck. Whats the trubble” ses I, and I stopped him in his mad careerer as Mr. James wud call it by grabbing him by his cote tales. He turned about, looks at me wid wild eyes and ses horsely:
"Oh, I only have them on hearsay," I said, drawing him on.
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