Excerpt from The Sheriff of Wasco

One day some twenty miles outside Centreville the Sheriff and his posse, wet to the skin and fiercely disgusted with the mere mention of outlaws, climbed sullenly a lonely hillside trail. A storm was raging, and the heights above were a dripping tangled wilderness, while below the dark swaying growths concealed the precipitous descent to the river, rushing with the voice and fury of a torrent toward the falls half a mile lower down the gorge.

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