The Last of the Plainsmen 



Navajo blanket, and peeping from under it, watched 

 the fire and the flickering shadows. The blaze burned 

 down rapidly. Then the stars blinked. Arizona \US 

 stars would be moons in any other State! How 

 serene, peaceful, august, infinite and wonderfully 

 bright! No breeze stirred the pines. The clear 

 tinkle of the cowbells on the hobbled horses rang 

 from near and distant parts of the forest. The 

 prosaic bell of the meadow and the pasture brook, 

 here, in this environment, jingled out different notes, 

 as clear, sweet, musical as silver bells. 



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