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Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander), 1862-1919

"A Story of the Western Crisis"

There
was a point, distinctly marked north of Jackson, where he was to find
Hertford if he arrived in time, or to wait for him if he got there ahead
of time, and he believed that with the aid of the map he could reach it
through the woods.
He rode now by the sun and he saw neither path nor fields. He was in the
deep wilderness once more. The mockingbirds sang around him again and
through the rifts in the leaves he saw the sailing hawks seeking their
prey. Three huge owls sitting in a row on a bough slept undisturbed
while he passed. He took it as an omen that the wilderness was deserted,
and his confidence was strong.
But the firm ground ceased and he rode through a region of swamps.
The hoofs of his horse splashed through mud and water. Now and then a
snake drew away its slimy length and Dick shuddered. He could not help
it. Snakes, even the harmless, always gave him shivers.
The wilderness now had an evil beauty. The vegetation was almost
tropical in its luxuriance, but Dick liked better the tender green of
his more northern state. Great beds of sunflowers nodded in the light
breeze.


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