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Grey, Zane, 1872-1939

"Riders of the Purple Sage"


"Put down your glass. You'll see at first better with a naked
eye. Now look along them ridges on the other side of the herd,
the ridges where the sun shines bright on the sage....That's
right. Now look en' look hard en' wait."
Long-drawn moments of straining sight rewarded Jane with nothing
save the low, purple rim of ridge and the shimmering sage.
"It's begun again!" whispered Lassiter, and he gripped her arm.
"Watch....There, did you see that?"
"No, no. Tell me what to look for?"
"A white flash--a kind of pin-point of quick light--a gleam as
from sun shinin' on somethin' white."
Suddenly Jane's concentrated gaze caught a fleeting glint.
Quickly she brought her glass to bear on the spot. Again the
purple sage, magnified in color and size and wave, for long
moments irritated her with its monotony. Then from out of the
sage on the ridge flew up a broad, white object, flashed in the
sunlight and vanished. Like magic it was, and bewildered
Jane.
"What on earth is that?"
"I reckon there's some one behind that ridge throwin' up a sheet
or a white blanket to reflect the sunshine."
"Why?" queried Jane, more bewildered than ever.
"To stampede the herd," replied Lassiter, and his teeth
clicked.
"Ah!" She made a fierce, passionate movement, clutched the glass
tightly, shook as with the passing of a spasm, and then dropped
her head.


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