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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"The Strange Case of Cavendish"

I reckon
it's in the cave they've got the gal; there's places there they kin
shut up, but I don't know what they was ever made fer. I asked Lacy
wunst, but he only laughed."
The two men lay flat, staring down. It was almost a sheer wall, and
the very thought of climbing along the almost impassable path pointed
out by Moore made Westcott dizzy. He had clambered along the ragged
crags of many a mountain in search for gold, but the necessity of
finding blindly in the dark that obscure and perilous passage brought
with it a sensation of horror which he had to fight in order to
conquer. It was such a sheer, precipitous drop, a path--if path it
could be called--so thickly studded with danger the mind actually
recoiled in contemplation.
"You have really been down there, Moore?" he questioned, half
unbelieving.
"Oh, I made it all right," boastfully. "But it's no picnic. I'd hate
like hell to risk it at night, but that's the only chance you fellows
will have to git down. It would be like trap-shootin' for them Mexes
if you tried it now.


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