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Deadwood Dick, The Prince of the Road - or, The Black Rider of the Black Hills by Edward L. Wheeler
page 6 of 153 (03%)
follow his example, and the noonday meal was dispatched in silence.
After each man had fully satisfied his appetite and the mules and
Fearless Frank's horse had grazed until they were full as ticks, the
order was given to hitch up, which was speedily done, and the caravan
was soon in motion, toiling along like a diminutive serpent across the
plain.

The afternoon was a mild, sunny one in early autumn, with a refreshing
breeze perfumed with the delicate scent of after-harvest flowers
wafting down from the cool regions of the Northwest, where lay the new
El Dorado--the land of gold.

Fearless Frank bestrode a noble bay steed of fire and nerve, while old
General Nix rode an extra mule that he had purchased of Charity Joe.
The remainder of the company rode in the wagons or "hoofed it," as
best suited their mood--walking sometimes being preferable to the
rumbling and jolting of the heavy vehicles.

Steadily along through the afternoon sunlight the train wended its
way, the teamsters alternately singing and cursing their mules, as
they jogged along. Fearless Frank and the "General" rode several
hundred yards in advance, both apparently engrossed in deepest
thought, for neither spoke until, toward the close of the afternoon,
Charity Joe called their attention to a series of low, faint cries
brought down upon their hearing by the stiff northerly wind.

"'Pears to me as how them sound sorter human like," said the old
guide, trotting along beside the young man's horse, as he made known
the discovery. "Jes' listen, now, an' see if ye ain't uv ther same
opinion!"
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