The Last of the Plainsmen 



you, but that rattler at the cabin last night actually 

 bit me, and I used carbolic to cure the poison.&quot; 



Frank mumbled something about horses, and 

 faded into the gloom. As for Jones, he looked at 

 me rather incredulously, and the absolute, almost 

 childish gladness he manifested because I had been 

 snatched from the grave, made me regret my deceit, 

 and satisfied me forever on one score. 



On awakening in the morning I found frost half 

 an inch thick covered my sleeping-bag, whitened the 

 ground, and made the beautiful silver spruce trees 

 silver in hue as well as in name. 



We were getting ready for an early ( : . t, when 

 two riders, with pack-horses jogging after ;hem, 

 came down the trail from the direction of Oak Spring. 

 They proved to be Jeff Clarke, the wild-horse wran 

 gler mentioned by the Stewarts, and his helper. 

 They were on the way into the breaks for a string of 

 pintos. Clarke was a short, heavily bearded man, of 

 jovial aspect. He said he had met the Stewarts going 

 into Fredonia, and being advised of our destination, 

 had hurried to come up with us. As we did not 

 know, except in a general way, where we were making 

 for, the meeting was a fortunate event. 



Our camping site had been close to the divide 

 made by one of the long, wooded ridges sent off by 

 Buckskin Mountain, and soon we were descending 



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