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Beach, Rex Ellingwood, 1877-1949

"Heart of the Sunset"

Until noon they rode, their
slickers dripping, their horses steaming; then they ate an
uncomfortable lunch under the thickest hackberry-tree they could
find, after which they resumed their patrol. Ricardo's tongue at
length ran down under this discomfort, and the three riders sat
their saddles silently, swaying to the tireless fox-trot of their
horses, their eyes engaged in a watchful scrutiny.
At last Pedro, who was ahead, reined in and pointed; the others
saw where the barbed-wire strands of the fence they had been
following were clipped. A number of horse and calf tracks led
through the opening, and after an examination Ricardo announced:
"There are two men. They have come and gone, with the calves tied
neck and neck."
"That is Las Palmas, isn't it?" Law indicated the pasture into
which the trail led.
Father and son answered, "Si, senor."
For a time the Ranger lounged sidewise in his saddle, studying the
country before him. The land was open and comparatively flat; it
was broken by tiny clumps of mesquite and low, sprawling beds of
cactus. Perhaps a half-mile away, however, began a long, narrow
patch of woods, with the tops of occasional oaks showing, and this
ran parallel with the fence for a considerable distance.


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