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the half-dozen cottonwoods and rank 
grass that dared to struggle for exist- 
ence in that baked up sage-brush waste 
which the government has set aside for 
the Raven paradise. 
We jumped — no, that is horse talk 
—we sprawled off our wheels and left 
the stupid things lying supinely on 
their sides, like the dead lumpish 
things they are, and descended a steep 
bank some ten feet into the gully. 
It was a gruesome sight, in the hour 
before sunset, with not a soul but our- 
selves for miles around. The lowering 
sun lighted up the under side of the 
leaves and branches and their strange 
burdens, giving an effect uncanny and 
weird, as though caused by unseen toot- 
lights. Not a sound disturbed the op- 
pressive quiet, not the quiver of a twig. 
Five of the six trees bore oblong bun- 
