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Brand, Max, 1892-1944

"Trailin'!"

"
The gentleness died in her face. She said sternly: "If you do
double-cross me, you'll find I'm about as hard as any man on the range.
Get me?"
"Shake."
Their hands met. After all, he did not guarantee what would happen to
the tenderfoot after they were clear of the town. But perhaps this was a
distinction a little too fine for the downright mind of the girl. A sea
of troubles besieged the mind of Nash.
And to let that sea subside he wandered back to the eating room and
found the tenderfoot finishing his coffee. The latter kept an eye of
frank suspicion upon him. So the silence held for a brooding moment,
until Bard asked: "D'you know the way to the ranch of William Drew?"
It was a puzzler to Nash. Was not that his job, to go out and bring the
man to Drew's place? Here he was already on the way. He remembered just
in time that the manner of bringing was decidedly qualified.
He said aloud: "The way? Sure; I work on Drew's place."
"Really!"
"Yep; foreman."
"You don't happen to be going back that way to-night?"
"Not all the way; part of it.


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