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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"The Strange Case of Cavendish"

Sikes, watching her
slightest movement, seemed to sense the meaning of the action.
"Hell, ain't it?" he said expressively. "You know whar we are?"
"No; but I never before dreamed any spot could be so terrible."
"This is the Shoshone desert; thar ain't nobody ever comes in yere
'cept wunst in a while a prospector, maybe, er a band o' cattle
rustlers. Even the Injuns keep out."
She lifted her eyes again, shuddering as they swept about over the
dismal waste.
"But there is a trail; you could not become lost?"
"Well, yer might call it a trail, tho' thar ain't much left of it after
a sand storm. I reckon thar ain't so many as could follow it any time
o' year, but Matt knows the way all right--you don't need to worry none
about that. He's drove many a load along yere--hey, Matt?"
"You bet; I've got it all marked out, the same as a pilot on the
Missouri. Ye see that sway-back ridge yonder?" pointing with his whip
into the distance ahead. "That's what I'm headin' for now an' when I
git thar a round rock will show up down a sorter gully.


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