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Walcott, Earle Ashley, 1859-1931

"Blindfolded"


"There'll be a fire here in a minute," said the landlord, regarding the
miserable little stove with an eye of satisfaction that I attributed to
its economical proportions.
"This is good enough," said Lockhart, looking about approvingly at the
prim horsehair furniture that gave an awesome dignity to the parlor.
"Beats our quarters below all hollow," said Fitzhugh. "And no need to
have your gun where you can grab it when the first man says boo!"
"Don't get that idea into your head," said I. "Just be ready for
anything that comes. We're not out of the woods yet, by a long way."
"They've gone on to Sacramento," laughed Fitzhugh; and the others
nodded in sympathy.
"Indeed?" I said. "How many of you could have missed seeing a party of
nine get off at a way-station on this line?"
There was silence.
"If there's any one here who thinks he would have missed us when he was
set to look for us, just let him speak up," I continued with good-
humored raillery.
"I guess you're right," said Fitzhugh. "They couldn't well have missed
seeing us."
"Exactly. And they're not off for Sacramento, and not far from
Livermore."
"Well, they're only two," said Lockhart.
"How long will it take to get a dozen more up here?" I asked.
"There's a train to Niles about noon," said one of the men. "They could
get over from there in an hour or two more by hard riding."
"The Los Angeles train comes through about dark," said another.
"I think, gentlemen," said I politely, "that we'd best look out for our
defenses.


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