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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"Beth Norvell A Romance of the West"

The boy returned at last hurriedly, bare-headed, but
unaccompanied, and she met him at the top of the steps, realizing, even
before he spoke, that those she sought had not been found.
"Not there? Neither there?"
"No, Miss." The clerk was breathing hard from his run, but his tone
was sympathetic. "Darned if I did n't hustle that outfit from pit to
boxes, but nobody there seemed to sabe this yere Brown. Mercedes, she
was there all right, 'bout ten minutes ago, but just naturally faded
away before I hit the shebang. Doorkeeper piped it she had a guy with
her when she broke loose, an' he reckoned she must have lit out fer
home."
"For home?" a faint ray of light breaking from the word. "Where does
the girl live? Do you know?"
"Sure; I 'm wise; she has a couple of dandy rooms over at the old fort,
just across the creek; you know where that is, don't you?"
She nodded silently, her eyes brightening with resolution.
"It 's a blame tough bit of hiking to take alone on a dark night like
this," he commented gravely.


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