A
draft caught the paper just before it landed and whirled it through the
doorless entrance and out into the night.
He was yawning as he restored the gun beneath the blanket, but from the
corner of his eye he saw the hardening of Nash's face, a brief change
which came and went like the passing of a shadow.
"That's something I'll remember," drawled the cowpuncher.
"You ought to," answered the other quickly, "it comes in handy now and
then."
"Feel sleepy?"
The candle guttered and flickered on the floor midway between the two
bunks, and Bard, glancing to it, was about to move from his bed and
snuff it; but at the thought of so doing it seemed to him as if he could
almost sense with prophetic mind the upward dart of the noose about his
shoulders. He edged a little lower in the blankets.
"Not a bit. How about you?"
"Me? I most generally lie awake a while and gab after I hit the hay.
Makes me sleep better afterward."
"I do the same thing when I've any one who listens to me--or talks to
me."
"Queer how many habits we got the same, eh?"
"It is.
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