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Beach, Rex Ellingwood, 1877-1949

"Rainbow's End"

But here in the plains and valleys near the cities Spain
was supreme. From this moment on O'Reilly knew he must rely
entirely upon himself. The success of his enterprise--his very
life--hinged upon his caution, his powers of dissimulation, his
ability to pass as a harmless, helpless pacifico. It gave him an
unaccustomed thrill, by no means pleasant.
The road, when he came to it, proved to be a deep gutter winding
between red-clay banks cut by the high wheels of clumsy cane-
carts. Inasmuch as no crops whatever had been moved over the road
during the past season, it was now little more than an oozy,
sticky rut. Not a roof, not a chimney, was in sight; the valley
was deserted. Here was a fertile farming country--and yet no
living thing, no sound of bells, no voices, no crowing cocks, no
lowing cattle. It was depressing to O'Reilly, and more, for there
was something menacing and threatening about it all.
Toward noon the breeze lessened and it became insufferably hot. A
bank of clouds in the east promised a cooling shower, so Johnnie
sought the nearest shade to wait for it, and took advantage of the
delay to eat his slender lunch. He was meditatively munching a
sweet-potato when a sound at his back caused him to leap to his
feet in alarm. He whirled, then uttered an exclamation of
amazement. Seated not fifty feet away was a bare-legged boy,
similarly engaged in eating a sweet-potato.


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