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Gregory, Jackson, 1882-1943

"Man to Man"

"There's a
trail climbing straight up from the bed of the pass; a trail to go
hand-and-foot style. Once on top we'll be among Barbee's herds, Barbee
guessing nothing of our coming since he'll be busy watching the other
ways in. And-- Look!"
They were close together and she gripped his arm in her sudden
amazement while she threw out one hand pointing. He heard her little
gasp; he looked upward; an astonished ejaculation broke from his own
lips. A breathless moment and already the thing, appearing from the
black nothingness, silhouetted but a moment against the sky, was gone
and he vaguely saw Terry's face turned toward him while they sought to
find each other's eyes and know if each had seen what the other had
glimpsed.
"It's impossible!" he muttered. "We are imagining things."
"Wait!" said Terry. "Maybe after all----"
They waited impatiently, their blood atingle. And in a very few
moments there was, seeming absurd and impossible, a repetition of the
vision which had so startled them: a black form at the head of the
cliffs, the field of star-strewn sky back of it limning it into vivid
distinctness--the ebon bulk of a steer moving straight out from the top
of the precipice, straight out a half-dozen feet into nothingness of
empty space, then slowly descending through the air, gone silently in
the deeper shadows of the canon below!
"Block and tackle!" muttered Steve abruptly.


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