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Vachell, Horace Annesley, 1861-1955

"Bunch Grass A Chronicle of Life on a Cattle Ranch"

For some
inexplicable reason that laugh fired my suspicions. It was--so to
speak--an open sesame to a chamber of horrors, the more horrible
because intangible and indescribable. Ajax said afterwards that he was
similarly affected. The contagion of fear is a very remarkable thing,
and one little understood by the physiologists. I remember I put my
hand into my pocket, because it began to tremble, and I was ashamed of
it. And then, as I still stared at the fat Chinaman, his smooth mask
seemed to drop from his face, and treachery, cunning, greed, hatred of
the "white devil" were revealed to me.
I was now convinced we had come on a fool's errand that was like to
end evilly for us, but, being a fool, I held my peace and said nothing
to Ajax, who confessed later that if I had spoken he would have
seconded a motion to retreat. We advanced, sensible that we were being
trapped: a psychological fact not without interest.
Opposite the door through which we had just passed was another door as
stout as the first. The Chinaman unlocked this with a small key, and
allowed us to enter, the guide with the candle leading the way.


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