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Keith of the Border by Randall Parrish
page 40 of 275 (14%)
at all without. An hour's start in the saddle, Neb, and this bunch back
here will never even find our trail; I pledge you that. Come, boy, stay
close with me."

It was the quiet, confident voice of assured command, of one satisfied
with his plans, and the obedient negro, breathing hard, never dreamed of
opposition; all instincts of slavery held him to the dominion of this
white master. Keith leaned forward, staring at the string of deserted
ponies tied to the rail. Success depended on his choice, and he could
judge very little in that darkness. Men were straggling in along the
street to their right, on foot and horseback, and the saloon on the corner
was being well patronized. A glow of light streamed forth from its
windows, and there was the sound of many voices. But this narrow alley was
deserted, and black. The fugitive stepped boldly forward, afraid that
otherwise he might startle the ponies and thus create an alarm. Guided by
a horseman's instinct he swiftly ran his hands over the animals, and made
quick selection.

"Here, Neb, take this fellow; lead him quietly down the bank," and he
thrust the loosened rein into the black's hand.

An instant later he had chosen his own mount, and was silently moving in
the same direction, although the night there was so black that the
obedient negro had already entirely vanished. The slope of the land not
only helped cover their movements, but also rendered it easy for them to
find one another. Fully a hundred yards westward they met, where a gully
led directly down toward the river. There was no longer need for remaining
on foot, as they were a sufficient distance away from the little town to
feel no fear of being discovered, unless by some drunken straggler. At
Keith's command the negro climbed into his saddle. Both ponies were
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