Snyder remembered one more site in Hollister he urged me to visit.
Hollister bent his head quite low, looking straight down into her upturned face.
Hollister knew this to be so, in a certain measure, on a small scale.
Hollister cast his eye up to where the cedars towered, a green mass on the slope above the cliff.
Hollister and Sheehan, the Secret Service men, took no chances with their prey.
A wind began to sigh among the trees as Hollister made his way downhill.
