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Sinclair, Bertrand W., 1881-1972

"North of Fifty-Three"

Then we'll come back here and
spend our honeymoon. Eh?"
She nodded assent.
"Are you game to start in half an hour?" he asked, holding her off at
arm's length admiringly.
"I'm game for anything, or I wouldn't be here," she retorted.
"All right. You just watch an exhibition of speedy packing," Bill
declared--and straightway fell to work.
Hazel followed him about, helping to get the kyaks packed with food.
They caught the three horses, and Bill stripped the pony of Hazel's
riding gear and placed a pack on him. Then he put her saddle on Silk.
"He's your private mount henceforth," Bill told her laughingly.
"You'll ride him with more pleasure than you did the first time, won't
you?"
Presently they were ready to start, planning to ride past Limping
George's camp and tell him whither they were bound. Hazel was already
mounted. Roaring Bill paused, with his toe in the stirrup, and smiled
whimsically at her over his horse's back.
"I forgot something," said he, and went back into the cabin--whence he
shortly emerged, bearing in his hand a sheet of paper upon which
something was written in bold, angular characters. This he pinned on
the door. Hazel rode Silk close to see what it might be, and laughed
amusedly, for Bill had written:
"Mr.


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