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Ormond G. Smith, George C. Smith, | } | Proprietors. |
STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York City. |
[THE RED SPIDER.]
"This," said Phil Clode, setting down his bag, "is the limit!"
Having given vent to which expressive remark, he laughed to himself and gazed round upon the most desolate scene that it had ever been his fortune to behold. Behind him stood a small, wooden erection, not unlike an enlarged run, which was, however, dignified by the name of station. For the rest, a clove-brown plain stretched away to infinity, marred only by the shining ribbons of the railway track and an occasional clump of cactus or greaseweed.
"The limit," the boy repeated solemnly. "Hullo! there's a man, or something very like one. I will get a line on to his vicinity, and try to extract a little useful information."
Picking up his grip, he hustled over to where a specimen of the cowboy genus had lounged from behind the station, leading a broncho that looked rather the worse for wear. Phil, as he approached, saw that a bag branded with the sign "U. S. Mail" was slung over the beast's saddle, and his eyes brightened. He knew that even in that deserted region of Colorado any servant of Uncle Sam's could be trusted.
"Say," he sang out. "Can you give me any notion where I am, mister? I was told to get off at Silver Bridge, and here I am right enough, but I can't see much sign of the town."
"You on foot?" the other returned with undisguised astonishment. "You must be stark——"
"Broncho waiting for me at Silver Bridge," Phil interrupted shortly. He had urgent reasons for not wishing to talk about his private affairs.