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Sinclair, Bertrand W., 1881-1972

"North of Fifty-Three"

Two thousand
miles in a wagon! And at the journey's end only a rude cabin of
logs--and years of steady toil. Isolation in a huge and lonely land.
Yet these folk were happy. She wondered briefly if her own viewpoint
were possibly askew. She knew that she could not face such a prospect
except in utter rebellion. Not now. The bleak peaks of the Klappan
rose up before her mind's eye, the picture of five horses dead in the
snow, the wolves that snapped and snarled over their bones. She
shuddered. She was still pondering this when she and Bill dismounted
at home.


CHAPTER XXV
THE DOLLAR CHASERS
Granville took them to its bosom with a haste and earnestness that made
Hazel catch her breath. The Marshes took possession of them upon their
arrival, and they were no more than domiciled under the Marsh roof than
all her old friends flocked to call. Tactfully none so much as
mentioned Andrew Bush, nor the five-thousand-dollar legacy--the
disposition of which sum still perplexed that defunct gentleman's
worthy executors. And once more in a genial atmosphere Hazel concluded
to let sleeping dogs lie. Many a time in the past two years she had
looked forward to cutting them all as dead as they had cut her during
that unfortunate period.


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