Yet now and then the tiny black figure on the black horse would stand out clearly against the golden, flower speckled earth, until, at last, a dust devil rose in a gust of wind. Rising high and leaning across his path, it seemed to envelop him, and, when it had passed and blown itself apart, Blaisdell too was finally lost to sight.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Warlock - Closing
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