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Say, have you ever heard of a disease of the the brain called 'partly hatched'?" The girl's eyes twinkled. "I don't kind of remember it." "No, I don't s'pose you do. I don't think anybody ever has it but me. I've got it bad. This valley's given it me, and and if it isn't careful it's going to get fatal." Helen looked around at him in pretended sympathy. "What's the symptoms? Nothing outward?
But the purest gold on Arizona's literary field, that was found by the genius of a lonesome valley's queen, the song-lark of our "Great Southwest." From the sheltering tree of her ancestral hall shyly she fluttered forth.
But so long as it stood there, a specter within its heart, Green Valley could not forget. It was said that Sam Ellis had put it up for sale. But who would buy the huge place? Then it was that Green Valley's three good little men came forward. Joe Gans, the socialist barber, was spokesman. He presented a plan that made Green Valley catch its breath.
As we descend the road of life, the journey, demanding so much of our attention, becomes of more importance than the journey's end; but to the child, standing at the valley's gate, the terminating hills are clearly visible. What lies beyond them is his constant wonder.
For only half an hour before she had seen Green Valley's young minister walking up to her old seat under the oaks. Perhaps if her father had not said what he did Nanny frowned impatiently, then sighed and walked down the road to Grandma Wentworth's. She told herself that she was going down to visit Grandma and tell her the week's news.
Had he been awake, he would have commanded a view, not only of the short arm of the road and the jutting rock, but of the entire profile of the cliff below it. It might well have made him giddy to look. The country was wooded everywhere except at the bottom of the valley to the northward, where there was a small natural meadow, through which flowed a stream scarcely visible from the valley's rim.
The three snow-summits of Monte Sfiorito, at the valley's end, seemed almost insubstantial floating forms of luminous pink vapour, above the hazy horizon, in a pure sky intensely blue. A familiar verse came into Peter's mind. "Really," he said to himself, "down to the very 'cataract leaping in glory, I believe they must have pre-arranged the scene, feature for feature, to illustrate it."
Dirk took time to pry off a fresh chew of tobacco before he replied. "You mean Thunder Pass? That there crosses over into the Black Rim country. Yeah There's a big wide range country over there, but we don't run any stock on it. Burroback Valley's big enough for the Muleshoe." Bud rolled a cigarette.
She was brilliantly clad in crimson and black, and rings of value shone on her ivory-like hands. Lola of the Golden Cloud was known all over Lost Valley. Men who had no women worshipped her and some who had, also. At the Stronghold at the Valley's head there was a woman who hated her, though she had never set eyes on her Courtrey's wife.
Close behind Boarface had leaped a youth to whom the leader had given his commands before the onrush and who, as he found his feet upon the valley's sward, sought, not an adversary face to face, but circled about the two champions, seeking only to get behind the leaping Ab while Boarface occupied his sole attention.
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