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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Frontier Stories"

_Adios_, young fellow. Don't stay out late; ye might be ran
off by some gal, and what would your mother say?" Of course the young
man could only look unutterable things and walk away, but even in that
dignified action he was conscious that its effect was somewhat
mitigated by a large patch from a material originally used as a
flour-sack, which had repaired his trousers, but still bore the
ironical legend, "Best Superfine."
The summer brought warmth and promise and some blossom, if not absolute
fruition to Blazing Star. The long days drew Nature into closer
communion with the men, and hopefulness followed the discontent of
their winter seclusion. It was easier, too, for Capital to be wooed and
won into making a picnic in these mountain solitudes than when high
water stayed the fords and drifting snow the Sierran trails. At the
close of one of these Arcadian days Cass was smoking before the door of
his lonely cabin when he was astounded by the onset of a dozen of his
companions. Peter Drummond, far in the van, was waving a newspaper like
a victorious banner.


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