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Keith of the Border by Randall Parrish
page 30 of 275 (10%)



Keith said nothing for some moments, staring up at the light stealing in
through the window grating, his mind once again active. The eyes of the
black man had the patient look of a dog as they watched; evidently he had
cast aside all responsibility, now that this other had come. Finally Keith
spoke slowly:

"We are in much the same position, Neb, and the fate of one is liable to
be the fate of both. This is my story"--and briefly as possible, he ran
over the circumstances which had brought him there, putting the situation
clear enough for the negro's understanding, without wasting any time upon
detail. Neb followed his recital with bulging eyes, and an occasional
exclamation. At the end he burst forth:

"Yo' say dar was two ob dem white men murdered--one an ol' man wid a gray
beard, an' de odder 'bout thirty? Am dat it, Massa Jack, an' dey had fo'
span ob mules, an' a runnin' hoss?"

"Yes."

"An' how far out was it?"

"About sixty miles."

"Oh, de good Lawdl" and the negro threw up his hands dramatically. "Dat
sutt'nly am my outfit! Dat am Massa Waite an' John Sibley."

"You mean the same men with whom you came here from Independence?"
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