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Keith of the Border by Randall Parrish
page 50 of 275 (18%)
professional hunter would choose such a barren spot for headquarters.
Either a hermit, anxious to escape all intercourse with humanity, or some
outlaw hiding from arrest, would be likely to select so isolated a place
in which to live. To them it would be ideal. Away from all trails, where
not even widely roving cattlemen would penetrate, in midst of a desert
avoided by Indians because of lack of game,--a man might hide here year
after year without danger of discovery. Yet such a one would not be likely
to welcome their coming, and they were without arms. But Keith was not a
man to hesitate long because of possible danger, and he stepped down into
the shallow water.

"Come on, Neb," he commanded, "and we 'll find out who lives here."

The window faced the west, and he came up the low bank to where the door
fronted the north in intense darkness. Under the shadow of the cottonwoods
he could see nothing, groping his way, with hands extended. His foot
struck a flat stone, and he plunged forward, striking the unlatched door
so heavily as to swing it open, and fell partially forward into the room.
As he struggled to his knees, Neb's black face peering past him into the
lighted interior, he seemed to perceive in one swift, comprehensive
glance, every revealed detail. A lamp burned on a rudely constructed set
of drawers near the window, and a wood fire blazed redly in a stone
fireplace opposite, the yellow and red lights blending in a peculiar glow
of color. Under this radiance were revealed the rough log walls, plastered
with yellow clay, and hung about with the skins of wild animals, a roughly
made table, bare except for a book lying upon it, and a few ordinary
appearing boxes, evidently utilized as seats, together with a barrel cut
so as to make a comfortable chair. In the back wall was a door, partially
open, apparently leading into a second room. That was all, except the
woman.
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