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Duffield, J. W.

"Bert Wilson in the Rockies"

An' o' course, I knew that arter a while, when I didn't show up
at camp, the boys would suspicion thet somethin' was wrong an' make up
a searchin' party to look for me. There's somethin'in all of us, I
reckon, that keeps right on hopin' up to the very minute that we cash in
an' leaves this here vale o' tears.
"But the worst was yet to come, as the story-book fellers say. It had
begun t' get real dark, when I thinks I hears a rustlin' sound in the
dead underbrush. I grabbed my axe, an' made up my mind to die fightin',
anyway. I knew sooner or later some hungry critter would come along an'
find me laid out there nice an' invitin', without a chance o' protectin'
myself, and I figgered that arter that the end wouldn't be a long ways
off.
"In a few minutes I heard the rustlin' sound again, only this time
nearer. I twisted as far around as I could, and then I saw what was
makin' the noise. Not thirty feet from me one o' the biggest painters I
ever laid eyes on was creepin' stealthily along, sizin' me up with his
glistenin' green eyes as he went.
"When he saw thet I had spotted him he stopped, crouchin' down clost t'
the ground, ready to fight or run, accordin' t' the way things looked
to him.


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