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Brand, Max, 1892-1944

"The Night Horseman"

So they came to the McDuffy place.
It was a helpless ruin, long abandoned. Not an iota of the roof
remained. The sheds for the horses had dropped to the earth; but the
walls of the house still remained standing, in part, with the empty
windows looking out with a mocking promise of the shelter which was not
within. Upon this hollow shack the rain beat with redoubled fury, and
even before they could make out the place through the blankets of rain,
they heard the hollow drumming. For there were times, oddly enough, when
any sound would carry a great distance through the crashing of the rain.
A wind now sprung up and at once veered the rain from its perpendicular
fall. It slashed them in the face under the drooping brims of their
sombreros, so they drew into the shelter of the highest part of the
standing wall. Still some of the rain struck them, but the major part of
it was shunted over their heads. Moreover, the wall acted as a sort of
sounding board, catching up every odd noise from the storm-beaten plain
beyond. They could speak to each other now without effort.
"D'you think," asked Haw-Haw Langley, pressing his reeking horse a
little closer to Mac Strann, "that he'll come out after us in a rain
like this?"
But simple-minded Mac Strann lifted his head and peered through the
thick curtains of rain.
"D'you think," he parried, "that Jerry could maybe look through all this
and see what I'm doin' to-day?"
It made Haw-Haw Langley grin, but peering more closely and observing
that there was no mockery in the face of the giant, he wiped out his
grin with a scrubbing motion of his wet hand and peered closely into the
face of his companion.


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