"Looks kind of like fine-cut--smells kind of like the real thing"--here
he removed the quid from his mouth and introduced the great pinch of
tobacco--"an' I'll be damned if it don't taste a pile the same!"
The misty eyes centred upon Bard and a light grew up in them.
"Maybe you'd put a price on this tobacco, stranger?"
"It's yours," said Bard, "to help you forget all the questions I've
asked."
The shepherd acted at once lest the other might change his mind, dumping
the contents of the pouch into the breast pocket of his shirt. Afterward
his gaze sought the dim summits of the Little Brothers, and a sad, great
resolution grew up and hardened the lines of his sallow face.
"You can camp with me if you want--partner."
A cough, hastily summoned, covered Bard's smile.
"Thanks awfully, but I'm used to camping alone--and rather like it that
way."
"Which I'd say, the same goes here," responded the shepherd with
infinite relief, "I ain't got much use for company--away from a bar. But
I could show you a pretty neat spot for a camp, over there by the
river.
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