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The Briscoe buckboard rattled along the elastic country-road, the roans

setting a sharp pace as they turned eastward on the pike toward hoht e, proudly He pointed ahead with his whip "Just beyond that bend we

pass through Six-Cross-Roads"

Miss Sherwood leaned forward eagerly "Can we see 'Mr Wimby's' house from

here?"

"No, it's on the other side, nearer toe pass it later It's the only

respectable-looking house in this township" They reached the turn of the

road, and the judge touched up his colts to a sharper gait "No need of

dallying," he observed quietly "It always makes me a little sick just to

see the place I'd hate to have a break-down here"

They caedly about a

blacksmith's shop and a saloon Half-a-dozen shanties clustered near the

forge, a few roofs scattered through the shiftlessly cultivated fields,