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Sinclair, Bertrand W., 1881-1972

"North of Fifty-Three"

and Mrs. William Wagstaff will be at home to their friends on and
after June the twentieth."
He swung up into his saddle, and they jogged across the open. In the
edge of the first timber they pulled up and looked backward at the
cabin drowsing silently under its sentinel tree. Roaring Bill reached
out one arm and laid it across Hazel's shoulders.
"Little person," he said soberly, "here's the end of one trail, and the
beginning of another--the longest trail either of us has ever faced.
How does it look to you?"
She caught his fingers with a quick, hard pressure.
"All trails look alike to me," she said, with shining eyes, "just so we
hit them together."


CHAPTER XVI
A BRIEF TIME OF PLANNING
"What day of the month is this, Bill?" Hazel asked.
"Haven't the least idea," he answered lazily. "Time is of no
consequence to me at the present moment."
They were sitting on the warm earth before their cabin, their backs
propped comfortably against a log, watching the sun sink behind a
distant sky-line all notched with purple mountains upon which snow
still lingered. Beside them a smudge dribbled a wisp of smoke
sufficient to ward off a pestilential swarm of mosquitoes and black
flies.


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