Sunset Ranch: A Story of a Boy's Adventures in the West — page 167: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Taking French Leave. 155 proaching, and gave forth the same tremulous whistle to guide the animal to his side. : Another moment and he was fondly stroking Buckskin’s velvety muzzle, and feeling the intelli- gent beast’s welcome. No time was to be lost. A rope hackamore must do duty in lieu of a bridle, a blanket for a saddle—these things Cuthbert had brought with him, in order to meet the emergency. Then the bars were let down. Gently Buckskin stepped outside. He seemed to recognize that some important busi- ness was on foot which required secrecy, for by no neigh or snort did he betray the satisfaction he must have felt at thus securing his freedom. The bars replaced, Cuthbert started to lead his prize away. His ambition, of course, was to reach the spot where his cache lay, to secure what stores he had secreted and then decamp. So many times had he gone over this line of re- treat that every foot of ground from the horse cor- ral to the hollow tree was as familiar to him as though it were broad midday. Every yard increased his chances of safety. The smouldering fires of the village began to be obscured by the trees, showing that he had suc- ceeded in rounding the spur that jutted out toward | the woods. His heart had been beating wildly, but now it began to resume its normal function, since the worst had passed by. The village fires had become like huge glow- worms in the distance, and it seemed to Cuthbert’s sensitive soul as though his old friend, a great owl, perched in a tree near by, sentinel of the night, were crooning a dismal and perpetual farewell, as he mut- tered his discontented notes. cComiclooks C©