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Brand, Max, 1892-1944

"Trailin'!"

As
far as he could see, the blinds were all drawn; not even the glimmer of
a candle showed, and the voices which he heard were muffled and low.
He thought of plague or some other disaster which might have overtaken
the little village and wiped out nine tenths of the populace in a day.
Only such a thing could account for silence in Eldara. There should have
been bursts and roars of laughter here and there, and now and then a
harsh stream of cursing. There should have been clatter of kitchen tins;
there should have been neighing of horses; there should have been the
quiver and tingle of children's voices at play in the dusty streets. But
there was none of this. The silence was as thick and oppressive as the
unbroken dark of the night. Even Butler's saloon was closed!
This, however, was something which he would not believe, no matter what
testimony his eyes gave him. He rode up to a shuttered window and kicked
it with his heel.
Only the echoes of that racket replied to him from the interior of the
place. He swore, somewhat touched with awe, and kicked again.


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