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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Frontier Stories"

But the
sunken trail hid it from his view. From the column of smoke now plainly
visible in the growing morning light he tried to locate the scene of
the conflagration. It was evidently not a fire advancing regularly from
the outer skirt of the wood, communicated to it from the Divide; it was
a local outburst near its centre. It was not in the direction of his
cabin in the tree. There was no immediate danger to Teresa, unless fear
drove her beyond the confines of the wood into the hands of those who
might recognize her. The screaming of jays and ravens above his head
quickened his speed, as it heralded the rapid advance of the flames;
and the unexpected apparition of a bounding body, flattened and flying
over the yellow plain, told him that even the secure retreat of the
mountain wild-cat had been invaded. A sudden recollection of Teresa's
uncontrollable terror that first night smote him with remorse and
redoubled his efforts. Alone in the track of these frantic and
bewildered beasts, to what madness might she not be driven!
The sharp crack of a rifle from the highroad turned his course
momentarily in that direction.


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