Subject: Thanks to this all my moles are now gone

From: Ruth <[email-masked]>
Date: Thu, 10 May 2018 12:36:38 -0400

BEAUTY ADVICE

Our Top Skin Care Solution

Skin tags are painless, noncancerous growths on the skin. They're connected to the skin by a small, thin stalk called a peduncle. Skin tags are common in both men and women, especially after age 50.

They can appear anywhere on your body, though they're commonly found in places where your skin folds ...

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for breakfast. I saw a rabbit; but just as I drew a bead on him I suddenly remembered155 that this was Sunday morning—and I quit. Sunday ought to be different from other days. So I left him hopping and happy, and I went back to camp. Jed and Kit had the fire going and the water boiling; and we breakfasted on tea and bread and bacon. Then we policed the camp, put out the fire, every spark, and took the burro and horse trail, to the rescue again. We must pretend that this was only a little Sunday walk, for exercise. After a while the trail crossed the creek at a shallow place, and by a cow-path climbed the side of a hill. Before

exposing ourselves on top of the hill we crawled and stuck just our heads up, Indian scouts fashion, to reconnoiter. The top was clear of enemy. Sitting a minute, to look, we could see old Pilot Peak and the snowy range where we Scouts ought to be crossing, bearing the message. We believed that now the gang with prisoners were traveling to cross the range, too. They had the message, of course, and that was bad, unless we could head them off. So we sort of hitched our belts another notch and traveled as fast

as we could. The hill we were on spread into a plateau of low cedars and scrubby pines; the snowy range, with Pilot Peak sticking up, was before. After we had been hiking for two or three hours, off diagonally to the left we saw a forest fire. This was thick156 timber country, and the fire made a tremendous smoke. It was likely to be a big fire, and we wondered if the ranger was fighting it. As for us, we were on the trail and must hurry. We watched the fire, but we were not afraid of it, yet. The

man came riding hard. He shouted and waved at us, so we stopped. He was the Ranger. I tell you, but he looked tired and angry. His eyes were red-rimmed and his face was streaked with sweat and dirt, and holes were burned in his clothes and his horse's hide. "I want you boys," he panted, as soon as he drew up. "We've got to stop that fire. See it?"Of course we'd seen it. But—it wasn't any of our business, was it? "I want you to hurry over there to a fire line and keep the fire from crossing. Quick! Savvy?"157 "I don't believe we can, sir," I said. "We're on the trail.""What difference does that make?""We're after a gang who