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Sinclair, Bertrand W., 1881-1972

"North of Fifty-Three"


"For goodness' sake!" she exclaimed.
"That's the true pioneer spirit for you," Bill spoke absently. "He has
bucked his way into the heart of a virgin country, and he's breaking
sod with a mule and a cow. That's adaptation to environment with a
vengeance--and grit."
"There's a woman, too, Bill. And see--she's carrying a baby!" Hazel
pointed excitedly. "Oh, Bill!"
"Let's go over." He stirred up his horse. "What did I tell you about
folk that hanker for lots of elbow-room? They're coming."
The man halted his strangely assorted team to watch them come. The
woman stood a step outside the door, a baby in her arms, another
toddler holding fast to her skirt. A thick-bodied, short,
square-shouldered man was this newcomer, with a round, pleasant face.
"Hello, neighbor!" Bill greeted.
The plowman lifted his old felt hat courteously. His face lit up.
"_Ach_!" said he. "Neighbor. Dot iss a goot vord in diss country vere
dere iss no neighbor. But I am glat to meet you. Vill you come do der
house und rest a v'ile?"
"Sure!" Bill responded. "But we're neighbors, all right. Did you
notice a cabin about half a mile west of here? That's our place--when
we're at home.


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