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Grey, Zane, 1872-1939

"The Spirit of the Border"

The simple meal of meat, bread, and
afterward a drink of the cold spring water, was keenly relished by
the hungry voyagers. When it had been eaten, Jeff threw a log on the
fire and remarked:
"Seein' as how we won't be in redskin territory fer awhile yit, we
kin hev a fire. I'll allow ye'll all be chilly and damp from
river-mist afore long, so toast yerselves good."
"How far have we come to-day?" inquired Mr. Wells, his mind always
intent on reaching the scene of his cherished undertaking.
"'Bout thirty-odd mile, I reckon. Not much on a trip, thet's sartin,
but we'll pick up termorrer. We've some quicker water, an' the rafts
hev to go separate."
"How quiet!" exclaimed Kate, suddenly breaking the silence that
followed the frontiersman's answer.
"Beautiful!" impetuously said Nell, looking up at Joe. A quick flash
from his gray eyes answered her; he did not speak; indeed he had
said little to her since the start, but his glance showed her how
glad he was that she felt the sweetness and content of this wild
land.
"I was never in a wilderness before," broke in the earnest voice of
the young minister. "I feel an almost overpowering sense of
loneliness. I want to get near to you all; I feel lost. Yet it is
grand, sublime!"
"Here is the promised land--the fruitful life--Nature as it was
created by God," replied the old minister, impressively.


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