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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"The Strange Case of Cavendish"

I ain't seen nuthin' of him since, an' the way
Bill Lacy wus cussing when I got breathin' straight agin would 'a'
shocked a coyote. He'll git him, though."
"Get him?"
"Sure--Bill will. He always gets his man. I've seen more'n one fellow
try to put something over on Lacy, but it never worked in the end.
He's hell on the trigger, an' the next time he and Bill come together,
Westcott's bound to get his. Ain't that the truth, Joe?"
Sikes nodded his head, a gleam of appreciation in his eyes.
"I'd like fer to see the scrap," he said slowly. "They tell me
Westcott ain't so slow on the draw--but Bill will get him!"
The sun rose a red ball of fire, colouring the ridges of sand, and
painting the grotesque rocks with crimson streamers. As it ascended
higher into the pale blue of the sky the heat-waves began to sweep
across the sandy waste. In the shadow of a bald cliff the wagon was
halted briefly, and the two men brought forth materials from within,
making a hasty fire, and preparing breakfast. Water was given the team
also, before the journey was resumed; while during the brief halt the
girl was left to do as she pleased.


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