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Various

"The Prairie Farmer, Vol. 56, No. 2, January 12, 1884 A Weekly Journal for the Farm, Orchard and Fireside"

Ted and I mounted, calling off Shep, who sat
on his haunches watching the unconscious man, and then we, too, sped
down the road. The hay-stack was giving out great columns of black
smoke, but the fire was dead.
Ahead of us was a riderless horse, Dolly, who greeted her master with a
joyful whinny. Where was Yik Kee? Then Dot, my horse, shied from the
road at a recumbent black figure. It was the indomitable Yik Kee, who
had crawled all the way from the stack on his stomach, so that he could
not be seen, after lying in the ditch till the blaze had faded out.
"Hump! no catchee Chinee; heap sore," he said, laconically rubbing his
stomach.
He mounted Dolly, and we rode on to White's ranch. Harry rushed out at
the sound of horses' feet, at midnight. There, under the twinkling stars
I looked into his eyes, and I told him the whole story. He showed no
guilt, but only said we must stay the night at his ranch, for the men
would come back to Jack's for him, and then mounting his fleet colt rode
off down the road. I comforted his mother as best I could. At day-break
we rode home.
Mary was in a wild state of alarm.


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