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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"The Strange Case of Cavendish"

"
"How about the note she gave you?"
"We'll wait a while to read that. I don't want to strike no light just
yet. Maybe it had best be kept till daybreak."
The men rode steadily, and mostly in silence, a large part of the way
side by side. The animals they bestrode were fairly mated, quite
capable of maintaining their gait for several hours, and needing little
urging. The night air was cool, and a rather stiff breeze swept over
the wide extent of desert, occasionally hurling spits of loosened sand
into their faces, and causing them to ride with lowered heads. The
night gloom enveloped them completely; their strained eyes were
scarcely able to trace the dim outlines of the ridge road, but the
horses were desert broke, and held closely to the beaten track, Before
they arrived at the lone cottonwood, Westcott's pony, which carried by
far the heavier load, began to show signs of fatigue. They drew up
here, and the marshal dismounted, searching about blindly in the
darkness.
"Too damn dark," he said, coming back, and catching up his rein.


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