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Vanguards of the Plains by Margaret Hill McCarter
page 78 of 367 (21%)
foundations of the earth were broken loose, and the thing had left us
far behind.

Daylight burst upon us in a moment, and the blue heavens smiled down on
the clean-washed prairies. No homes, no crops, no orchards were left in
ruins in those days to mark the cyclone's wrath on wilderness trails. As
the darkness lifted we gathered ourselves together to take hold of life
again and to defend ourselves from our human enemy.

A shower of arrows from the top of the bluff might rain upon us at any
moment, yelling warriors might rush upon us, or a ring of riders
encircle us. It was in times like this that I learned how quickly men
can get the mastery.

Jondo and Esmond Clarenden did not delay a minute in protecting the camp
and setting it in order, taking inventory of the lost and searching for
the missing. Three of our number, with one of the ponies, were missing.

Aunty Boone had crouched in a protected angle at the base of the bluff,
and when we found her she was calmly smoking her pipe.

"Yo' skeered of this little puff?" she queried. "Yo' bettah see a simoon
on the desset, then. This here--just a racket. What's come of that
little redskin?"

She was not to be found. Nor was there any trace of Rex Krane anywhere.
In consternation we scanned the prairies far and wide, but only level
green distances were about us, holding no sign of life. We lived hours
in those watching minutes.

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