Just as St.Vincent came up with him he finished tying the knot, and started forward with the feverish haste of a man trying to make up for lost time.
"I say, hold on, my man," the correspondent called out to him.
Bishop shot a hurried glance at him and pressed on.

St.Vincent broke into a run till they were side by side again.
"Is this the way--" "To the benches of French Hill ?" Del snapped him short.

"Betcher your life.

That's the way I'm headin'.

So long." He ploughed forward at a tremendous rate, and the correspondent, half-running, swung in behind with the evident intention of taking the pace.