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Gunsight Pass

he judged, had
originally belonged to a well-to-do Mexican family and had later been
rebuilt upon American ideas. The thick adobe walls had come down from the
earlier owners, but the roof had been put on as a substitute for the flat
one of its first incarnation.

The range-rider was wearing plain shiny leather chaps with a gun in an
open holster tied at the bottom to facilitate quick action. He drew out
the revolver, tested it noiselessly, and restored it carefully to its
place. If he needed the six-shooter at all, he would need it badly and
suddenly.

Gingerly he tested the window of the dormer, working at it from the side
so that his body would not be visible to anybody who happened to be
watching from within. Apparently it was latched. He crept across the roof
to the other dormer.

It was a casement window, and at the touch of the hand it gave way.
The heart of the cowpuncher beat fast with excitement. In the shadowy
darkness of that room death might be lurking, its hand already
outstretched toward him. He peered in, accustoming his eyes to the
blackness. A prickling of the skin ran over him. The tiny cold feet of
mice pattered up and down his spine. For he knew that, though he could
not yet make out the objects inside the room, his face must be like a
framed portrait to anybody there.

He made out presently that it was a bedroom with sloping ceiling. A bunk
with blankets thrown back just as the sleeper had left them filled one
side of the chamber. There were two chairs, a washstand, a six-inch by
ten looking-glass, and a chromo or two on the wall. A sawed-off shotgun
was standing in a corner. Here and there were scattered soiled clothing
and stained boots. The door was ajar, but nobody was in the room.

Dave eased himself over the sill and waited for a moment while he
listened, the revolver in his hand. It seemed to him that he could hear
a faint murmur of voices, but he was not sure. He moved across the bare
plank floor, slid through the door, and again stopped to take st



druzyna-pierscienia gzymsy elewacyjne

Martha Finley (1828 - 1909) was a teacher and author of numerous works, the most well known being the 28 volume Elsie Dinsmore series which was published over a span of 38 years. The daughter of Presbyterian minister Dr. James Brown Finley and his wife and cousin Maria Theresa Brown Finley, she was born on April 26th, 1828 in Chillicothe, Ohio. Finley wrote many of her books under the psodonym Martha Farquharson. She died in 1909 in Elkton, Maryland, where she moved in 1876.

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Anonymous may refer to: Anonymus, the Latin spelling, may refer to:

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