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Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander), 1862-1919

"The Hunters of the Hills"

Now he raked dead
leaves together, spread the blanket on them, lay on one half of it and
used the other half as a cover.
Robert imitated him, but his blanket was not so fine as Tayoga's,
although he found it soft and warm enough. Willet sat on a log higher
up, his rifle across his knees and gazed humorously at them.
"You two lads look pretty snug down there," he said, "and after all
you're only lads. Tayoga may have a head plumb full of the wisdom of the
wilderness, and Robert may have a head stuffed with different kinds of
knowledge, but you're young, mighty young, anyhow. An' now, as I'm
watching over you, I'll give a prize to the one that goes to sleep
first."
In three minutes deep regular breathing showed that both had gone to the
land of slumber, and Willet could not decide which had led the way. The
darkness increased so much that their figures looked dim in the hollow,
but he glanced at them occasionally. The big man had many friends, but
young Lennox and Tayoga were almost like sons to him, and he was glad to
be with them now.


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