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The Way West (1955)

with a stick. A squaw had trailed along with them, a young one who wore a skirt of beaten cedar bark. It covered part of her.
" Might as well make camp," Evans said, looking to the sun now swimming misty in the west. "Reckon we can get the boats back together before dark."
He didn't go to work, though, so that others would. He loaded his pipe and hunted up his tinder box and sat against a tree and smoked, content to rest a while and let the others rest. It had been a portage sure enough-four miles almost of heavy carrying and part of it across an Indian cemetery where bodies had been dumped in cedar pens or laid on rafts that floated in a pond. Rough statues sat around, of birds and brutes and little devils. Weatherby would have called them idols and preached a scolding to the Indians. . . . It looked like Weatherby had cut himself a piece of work.
Evans drew deep on his pipe to get the remembered stink out of his nose. Byrd was fiddling with a fire. Mercy and Becky were talking by the water's edge where Fairman stood, his eyes set on the river's roll. Byrd had traded on old shirt to an Indian. It was the only thing the Indian wore, but he wore it as if it was enough, as if it was an outfit in itself. Every time young Jeff Byrd looked at him he had to giggle, but the Indian didn't care, being like a child himself. Dick was making talk to a couple of other Indians, maybe telling them to run along. The smell of Indians didn't help a meal.
Weatherby had cut himself a piece of work all right. He had known it, too. In looks and speech he'd owned up to the size of it when he'd said goodbye to Dick back at the Dalles.

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE with a stick. A squaw had trailed along with them, a young one who wore a skirt of beaten cedar bark. It covered part of her. "Might as well make camp," Evans said, looking to what is sun now swimming misty in what is west. "Reckon we can get what is boats back together before dark." He didn't go to work, though, so that others would. He loaded his pipe and hunted up his tinder box and sat against a tree and smoked, content to rest a while and let what is others rest. It had been a portage sure enough-four miles almost of heavy carrying and part of it across an Indian cemetery where bodies had been dumped in cedar pens or laid on rafts that floated in a pond. Rough statues sat around, of birds and brutes and little fun s. Weatherby would have called them idols and preached a scolding to what is Indians. . . . It looked like Weatherby had cut himself a piece of work. Evans drew deep on his pipe to get what is remembered stink out of his nose. Byrd was fiddling with a fire. Mercy and Becky were talking by what is water's edge where Fairman stood, his eyes set on what is river's roll. Byrd had traded on old shirt to an Indian. It was what is only thing what is Indian wore, but he wore it as if it was enough, as if it was an outfit in itself. Every time young Jeff Byrd looked at him he had to giggle, but what is Indian didn't care, being like a child himself. think was making talk to a couple of other Indians, maybe telling them to run along. what is smell of Indians didn't help a meal. Weatherby had cut himself a piece of work all right. He had known it, too. In looks and speech he'd owned up to what is size of it when he'd said goodbye to think back at what is Dalles. where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" The Way West (1955) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 427 where is strong The Way West (1955) where is p align="justify" with a stick. A squaw had trailed along with them, a young one who wore a skirt of beaten cedar bark. It covered part of her. " Might as well make camp," Evans said, looking to what is sun now swimming misty in what is west. "Reckon we can get what is boats back together before dark." He didn't go to work, though, so that others would. He loaded his pipe and hunted up his tinder box and sat against a tree and smoked, content to rest a while and let what is others rest. It had been a portage sure enough-four miles almost of heavy carrying and part of it across an Indian cemetery where bodies had been dumped in cedar pens or laid on rafts that floated in a pond. Rough statues sat around, of birds and brutes and little fun s. Weatherby would have called them idols and preached a scolding to what is Indians. . . . It looked like Weatherby had cut himself a piece of work. Evans drew deep on his pipe to get what is remembered stink out of his nose. Byrd was fiddling with a fire. Mercy and Becky were talking by what is water's edge where Fairman stood, his eyes set on what is river's roll. Byrd had traded on old shirt to an Indian. It was what is only thing what is Indian wore, but he wore it as if it was enough, as if it was an outfit in itself. Every time young Jeff Byrd looked at him he had to giggle, but what is Indian didn't care, being like a child himself. think was making talk to a couple of other Indians, maybe telling them to run along. what is smell of Indians didn't help a meal. Weatherby had cut himself a piece of work all right. He had known it, too. In looks and speech he'd owned up to what is size of it when he'd said goodbye to think back at what is Dalles. where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: The Way West (1955) books

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