Our company shuffled and dragged his feet, as if wearing heavy shoes.
Whoever it was wore thick cotton pants; what I thought were trees rustling was the soft swish of cotton on cotton, wheek, wheek, with every step.
I felt the sand go cold under my feet and I knew we were near the big oak.
Jem pressed my head. We stopped and listened. Shuffle-foot had not stopped with us this time.
His trousers swished softly and steadily. Then they stopped.
He was running, running toward us with no child’s steps.
“Run, Scout! Run! Run!” Jem screamed. I took one giant step and found myself reeling:
my arms useless, in the dark, I could not keep my balance.
“Jem, Jem, help me, Jem!” Something crushed the chicken wire around me.
Metal ripped on metal and I fell to the ground and rolled as far as I could, floundering to escape my wire prison.
From somewhere near by came scuffling, kicking sounds, sounds of shoes and flesh scraping dirt and roots.
Someone rolled against me and I felt Jem. He was up like lightning and pulling me with him but,
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