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Grey, Zane, 1872-1939

"Heritage of the Desert"

Then quickly: "I couldn't recognize the
other man anyhow; I don't know him. But Mescal can tell. He saved her
and I'll save him. But how?"
Every rustler, except the masked ones standing stern and silent, clamored
that he was the one to be saved.
"Hurry back home," said Caldwell in Hare's ear "Tell them to fetch
Mescal. Find out and hurry back. Time presses. The Mormons are
wavering. You've got only a few minutes."
Hare slipped out of the crowd, sped up the road, jumped the fence on the
run, and burst in upon the Bishop and his family.
"No danger--don't be alarmed--all's well," he panted. "The rustlers are
captured. I want Mescal. Quick! Where is she? Fetch her, somebody."
One of the women glided from the room. Hare caught the clicking of a
latch, the closing of a door, hollow footfalls descending on stone, and
dying away under the cottage. They rose again, ending in swiftly
pattering footsteps. Like a whirlwind Mescal came through the hall,
black hair flying, dark eyes beaming.
"My darling!" Oblivious of the Mormons he swung her up and held her in
his arms. "Mescal! Mescal!"
When he raised his face from the tumbling mass of her black hair, the
Bishop and his family had left the room.


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