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Updated: May 25, 2025
A faint aureole of light crept up back of the pass. "Dawn at last!" Jack breathed, in relief. "Firio! Firio! Up with you!" "Oh-yuh!" yawned Firio. "Sí, sí!" he said, rising numbly to his feet and rubbing his eyes with his fists, while he tried to comprehend an astonishing reversal of custom. Usually he awakened his camp-mate; but this morning his camp-mate had awakened him.
"What's on?" asked his camp-mate, presently, noticing that he was holding up his hand, after wetting his finger, a method much in vogue when one wished to learn the direction of the passing air currents. "Southeast; and blowing strong a bit ago up there on the mountain, I reckon," Frank remarked.
"But, Steve, I tell you it wasn't a dream after all; only I just happened to get things mixed, you see. Somethin' did grab me by the leg, and try to pull me out of the tent! If I'd been scared so I couldn't kick and yell, why chances are you'd be short one camp-mate right now, that's all." "Shucks!" grumbled Steve, hard to convince, "talk is cheap; prove it, Bandy-legs!" "I will, then!"
Cress was then twenty-five just my age and one of the rare type of men who actually hate and dread a fight, but where necessary, go into it with a jest and come out of it with a laugh, as jolly a camp-mate and as steady a stayer as I ever knew. Charlie Crawford, a half-breed Mexican, taken on for his fluency in Spanish, completed our outfit.
Really Max had begun to suspect that their camp-mate must be writing a story, founded on that strange cabin, with its lichen-covered walls, and the roof that seemed to be sprouting green grass with the moss. One glance he took at the brave heading that began the page. The title was quite enough for Max.
"Bob!" he called out. "Want me?" asked his chum from the spot where the fire was burning. "Yes, come here please," Frank continued. Bob quickly complied with the request. He knew that although his camp-mate spoke in such a quiet tone, he had evidently made a discovery.
"Your friend Blake?" he repeated. "Old friend camp-mate, chum all over Western America and South Africa. It's he who's entitled to the credit for the rescue of Miss Leslie." "We'll talk about your part later. You'll, of course, call on us," said Mr. Leslie. He fixed his narrowing eyes on Blake. "H'm. So you're Tom Blake the same one." "That's no lie," replied Blake dryly.
Pierce blinked; he found that his jaw had dropped in amazement. McCaskey enjoyed the sensation he had created; he leered at his former camp-mate, and in his expression was a hint of that same venom he had displayed when he had run the gauntlet at Sheep Camp after his flogging, He broke the spell of Pierce's amazement and proved himself to be indeed a reality by uttering a greeting.
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