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Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander), 1862-1919

"A Story of the Great Western Campaign"

But he knew the exact spot,
and he wanted his eyes to linger there a little before he rode straight
for it.
Now the great pulse in his throat leaped, and something like a sob came
from him. But it was not a sob of unhappiness. He clucked to his horse
and turned from the main road into a narrower one that led by the low
house among the evergreens. Yet he was a boy of powerful will, and
despite his eagerness, he restrained his horse and advanced very slowly.
Sometimes he turned the animal upon the dead turf by the side of the
road in order that his footsteps might make no sound.
He drew slowly nearer, and when he saw the roof and eaves of the low
house among the evergreens the great pulse in his throat leaped so hard
that it was almost unbearable. He reached the edge of the lawn that
came down to the road, and hidden by the clipped cone of a pine he saw
a faint light shining.
He dismounted, opened the gate softly, and led his horse upon the lawn,
hitching him between two pines that grew close together, concealing him
perfectly.
"Be quiet, old fellow," he whispered, stroking the great intelligent
head. "Nobody will find you here and I'll come back for you."
The horse rubbed his nose against his arm but made no other movement.
Then Dick walked softly toward the house, pulses beating hard and paused
just at the edge of a portico, where he stood in the shadow of a pillar.
He saw the light clearly now.


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