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Cullum, Ridgwell, [pseud.], 1867-1943

"The Forfeit"

"
Jeff's eyes were as close upon the trail as Bud's, only he read with
less understanding.
"They seem leading out of the valley," he said. "Maybe there's another
camp way up further."
Suddenly Bud drew rein, his great body lurching forward in the saddle
as his horse "propped" itself to a standstill. Jeff's horse followed
suit of its own accord.
"What's doing?"
Jeff's demand was accompanied by a keen look into the other's face.
Bud's eyes were wide with speculation.
"They've broke up--hereabouts," he cried. "More'n half the horses have
cut out. Say, ther'," he went on pointing away to the right. "That's
the way they've took, clear across ther' to the east. The herd's gone
on with jest a few boys to handle it. Say----"
"Look!"
A curious suppressed force rang in Jeff's exclamation. He was pointing
at a bluff of wide-spreading sturdy trees that grew hard in against the
eastern slope of the valley.
Bud followed the direction indicated, and that which he beheld robbed
him of all inclination for further speech.


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