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Grey, Zane, 1872-1939

"The Young Forester"

It would take a hundred years to reforest those acres denuded
of their timber by the fire of a few days. But as hour after hour went by,
with our trail leading through miles and miles of the same old forest that
had bewitched me, I began to feel a little less grief at the thought of
what the fire had destroyed. It was a loss, yet only a small part of vast
Penetier. If only my friends had gotten out alive!
Herky was as relentless in his travelling as I had found him in some other
ways. He kept his pony at a trot. The trail was open, we made fast time,
and when the sun had begun to cast a shadow before us we were going
down-hill. Busy with the thought of my friends, I scarcely noted the
passing of time. It was a surprise to me when we rode down the last little
foot-hill, out into the scattered pines, and saw Holston only a few miles
across the sage-flat.
"Wal, kid, we've come to the partin' of the ways," said Herky, with a
strange smile on his smug face.
"Herky, won't you ride in with me?"
"Naw, I reckon it'd not be healthy fer me."
"But you haven't even a saddle or blanket or any grub."
"I've a friend across hyar a ways, a rancher, an' he'll fix me up. But,
kid, I'd like to hev thet hoss. He was Buell's, an' Buell owed me money.
Now I calkilate you can't take Target back East with you, an' you might as
well let me have him.


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