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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Drift from Two Shores"

My horse
was still fresh, and calling out to the boys to follow me and bear
for the light, I struck out for it. In another moment I was before
a little cabin that half burrowed in the black chapparal; I
dismounted and rapped at the door. There was no response. I then
tried to force the door, but it was fastened securely from within.
I was all the more surprised when one of the boys, who had
overtaken me, told me that he had just seen through a window a man
reading by the fire. Indignant at this inhospitality, we both made
a resolute onset against the door, at the same time raising our
angry voices to a yell. Suddenly there was a quick response, the
hurried withdrawing of a bolt, and the door opened.
"The occupant was a short, thick-set man, with a pale, careworn
face, whose prevailing expression was one of gentle good humor and
patient suffering. When we entered, he asked us hastily why we had
not 'sung out' before.
"'But we KNOCKED!' I said, impatiently, 'and almost drove your door
in.'
"'That's nothing,' he said, patiently.


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