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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"The Strange Case of Cavendish"

"
"What will be better?" she asked.
"The back room; it is dark, with no windows, and there are strips
nailed between the logs. We can force that heavy wooden bed across the
door, and hide behind it. We ought to hold them there as long as our
cartridges last, unless they set the cabin afire. Good God! They have
begun already. Three more blows like that and the door goes down.
Come; it's our only chance."
It was the work of a moment; it had to be. The inner room was so dark
they had to feel their way about blindly, yet those splintering crashes
on the outer door, interspersed by the shouts of the men, spurred both
to hurried effort. Nor was there much to be done. The heavy bed was
thrown upon its side, and hauled and pushed forward until it rested
against the door jambs, the mattress and blankets so caught and held as
to form protection against bullets. Breathless the two sank to their
knees in the darkness behind, their eyes on the brightening daylight of
the room beyond. Already a hole had been stove through the upper panel
of the door, the surrounding wood splintered.


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