[Freckles by Gene Stratton-Porter]@TWC D-Link book
Freckles

CHAPTER IX
10/19

That carried her into the swale, where the grasses reached almost to her waist, and her horror of snakes returning, she made a flying leap for an old log lying beside the line.

She alighted squarely, but it was so damp and rotten that she sank straight through it to her knees.

She caught at the wire as she went down, and missing, raked her wrist across a barb until she tore a bleeding gash.

Her fingers closed convulsively around the second strand.
She was too frightened to scream now.

Her tongue stiffened.


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