BENEATH THE BRUSH HEAP
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the dusk had deepened, he crept from beneath the pile of brush, and in the distance saw the light from the window of the little house on the knoll. He would seek that, he resolved, and then, with unsteady steps, falling at times and then creeping for a distance, he went slowly forward. Miles must have been covered and days consumed in that tiresome journey, he assured himself; but at last when he stood by the window and peered into the lighted room, all his fears returned, though he found himself unable to turn and flee from the spot.
