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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Frontier Stories"

"Nobody meeting you now," he
whispered, "would suspect where you had been. Good night! until next
week--remember."
They pressed each other's hands, and standing on the slight ridge
outlined against the paling sky, in full view of the highway, parting
carelessly, as if they had been chance met travellers. But Nellie could
not restrain a parting backward glance as she left the ridge. Low had
descended to the deserted trail, and was running swiftly in the
direction of the Carquinez Woods.

CHAPTER IV.
Teresa awoke with a start. It was day already, but how far advanced the
even, unchanging, soft twilight of the woods gave no indication. Her
companion had vanished, and to her bewildered senses so had the
camp-fire, even to its embers and ashes. Was she awake, or had she
wandered away unconsciously in the night? One glance at the tree above
her dissipated the fancy. There was the opening of her quaint retreat
and the hanging strips of bark, and at the foot of the opposite tree
lay the carcass of the bear. It had been skinned, and, as Teresa
thought with an inward shiver, already looked half its former size.


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