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Brand, Max, 1892-1944

"Trailin'!"

"
"Mind if I went along?"
"Nobody to keep you from it," said the cowpuncher without enthusiasm.
"By the way, what sort of a man is Drew?"
"Don't you know him?"
"No. The reason I want to see him is because I want to get the right to
do some--er--fishing and hunting on a place of his on the other side of
the range."
"The place with the old house on it; the place Logan is?"
"Exactly. Also I wish to see Logan again. I've got several little things
I'd like to have him explain."
"H-m!" grunted Nash without apparent interest.
"And Drew?"
"He's a big feller; big and grey."
"Ah-h-h," said the other, and drew in his breath, as though he were
drinking.
It seemed to Nash that he had never seen such an unpleasant smile.
"You'll get what you want out of Drew. He's generous."
"I hope so," nodded the other, with far-off eyes. "I've got a lot to ask
of him."


CHAPTER XVII

BUTCH RETURNS
He reminded Nash of some big puma cub warming itself at a hearth like a
common tabby cat, a tame puma thrusting out its claws and turning its
yellow eyes up to its owner--tame, but with infinite possibilities of
danger.


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