Wood. “I really do not believe,” he announced with satisfaction, “that any one would recognize me. “What were you doing?” Her voice was a little hysterical. A middle-aged countrywoman, plump of cheek, and a little shy. " She opened the book which she had brought to the table. She drew in a deep breath of the sweet mountain air. Conceiving the opportunity too favourable to be lost, Jack sprang suddenly over the hedge, and before the man, who was floundering on the ground with one foot in the stirrup, could extricate himself from his embarrassing position, secured his pistols, which he drew from the holsters, and held them to his head. To have written a short story in a week was rather a remarkable feat.
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