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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"The Strange Case of Cavendish"

The distance seemed more than three miles, but at
last Moore turned sharply and plunged into what resembled a narrow
ravine through the ridge. Here they struggled knee deep in the sand,
but finally emerged on the very rim overlooking the valley.
So perfectly was it concealed they were within ten feet of the edge
before the men, their heads bent in the strenuous effort to advance,
even realised its immediate presence. They halted instantly,
awestruck, and startled into silence by the wonder of that scene
outspread below. Moore grinned as he noted the surprise depicted on
their faces, and waved his hand.
"Yer better lie down an' crawl up ter the edge," he advised. "Some
hole, ain't it?"
"I should say so," and Westcott dropped to his knees. "I never dreamed
of such a place. Why it looks like a glimpse into heaven from this
sand. Dan, ain't this an eye-opener?"
"It sure is," and the marshal crept cautiously forward. "Only it's
devils who've got possession. Look at them cattle up at the further
end; they don't look no bigger than sheep, but there's quite a bunch of
'em.


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