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

"The Scouts of the Valley"

They saw the cabin of
neither white man nor Indian. A desolation and a silence,
brought by the great struggle, hung over everything. Many
discerning eyes among the riflemen noted the beauty and fertility
of the country, with its noble forests and rich meadows. At
times they caught glimpses of the river, a clear stream sparkling
under the sun.
"Makes me think o' some o' the country 'way down thar in
Kentucky," said Shif'less Sol, "an' it seems to me I like one
about ez well ez t'other. Say, Henry, do you think we'll ever go
back home? 'Pears to me that we're always goin' farther an'
farther away."
Henry laughed.
"It's because circumstances have taken us by the hand and led us
away, Sol," he replied.
"Then," said the shiftless one with a resigned air, "I hope them
same circumstances will take me by both hands, an' lead me
gently, but strongly, back to a place whar thar is peace an' rest
fur a lazy an' tired man like me."
"I think you'll have to endure a lot, until next spring at
least," said Henry.
The shiftless one heaved a deep sigh, but his next words were
wholly irrelevant.
"S'pose we'll light on that thar Seneca Castle by tomorrow
night?" he asked.


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