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Mathie told of the great retreat how men who had fought for days, who were unbeaten and unafraid, had obeyed an order they hated and could not understand, and had marched day and night, day and night, eating as they toiled on, sleeping while they marched, on and on, bloody-footed, desperate, and terrible, filled with burning thirst and the agony of ceaseless motion, on with dragging legs and laboring breasts and red-hazed eyes, on and onward, unquenchable, with the spirit of France.
Home across the cactus and lava, through solemn lonely days, the silent, lonely nights, into the vast and red-hazed world of desolation. "Thorne, Mercedes, Nell, let's climb the foothill yonder and watch him out of sight," said Dick. They climbed while the others returned to the house. When they reached the summit of the hill Yaqui was riding up the far bank of the river.
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