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

"The Forfeit"


Long silent moments passed. Moments fraught with poignant, stirring
emotions. Something painful was slowly creeping into the eyes of both
men as they continued to regard this stout cluster of trees.
"Oaks."
The word was muttered.
Jeff vouchsafed no reply, but led the way toward them at a gallop.
They drew up almost in the shadow of the trees, at a point where three
hideous things were hanging suspended by rawhide ropes. They were
swaying gently, stirred almost imperceptibly under the pressure of the
light breeze.
Bud sat stock still upon his horse. For a moment Jeff remained at his
side. Then the latter stirred. He pressed his horse forward, urging
it closer under the overhanging boughs. The animal moved willingly
enough for a few yards. Then panic suddenly beset it. It shied. It
reared and plunged. The fierce reminder of the spur was powerless to
affect it beyond driving it to even more strenuous rebellion. The
terror-stricken creature would not approach another step in the
direction of those ominous swinging bodies.


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