"I allers hearn ez them Hamlin boys hed good blood intew em," observed
a farmer. "Mrs. Hamlin's a Hawley, one o' them air River Gods, ez they
calls em daown Hampshire way. Her folks wuz riled wen she tuk up with
Elnathan, I hearn."
CHAPTER EIGHTH
GREAT GOINGS ON AT BARRINGTON
As the company from Stockbridge surmounted the crest of a hill, about
half way to Barrington, they saw a girl in a blue tunic, a brown rush
hat, and a short gown, of the usual butternut dye, trudging on in the
same direction, some distance ahead. As she looked back, in evident
amazement at the column of men marching after her, Perez thought that
he recognized the face, and on coming up with her, she proved to be,
in fact, no other than Prudence Fennell, the little lass who had
called at the house Sunday evening to inquire about her father down at
the jail, and whose piteous grief at the report Perez was obliged to
give, had determined Abner and him to attempt the rescue of George, as
well as Reub, at whatever additional risk.
Far enough were they then from dreaming that two days later would find
them leading a battalion of armed men, by broad daylight along the
high road, to free the captives by open force.
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