"
"Fairly hard," nodded the redoubtable Lawlor, "but they ain't nothin' to
the men that used to ride the range in the old days."
"No?"
"Nope. One of them men--why, he'd eat a dozen like Kilrain and think
nothin' of it. Them was the sort I learned to ride the range with."
"I've heard something about a fight which you and John Bard had against
the Piotto gang. Care to tell me anything of it?"
Lawlor lolled easily back in his chair and balanced a second large drink
between thumb and forefinger.
"There ain't no harm in talk, son; sure I'll tell you about it. What
d'you want to know?"
"The way Bard fought--the way you both fought."
"Lemme see."
He closed his eyes like one who strives to recollect; he was, in fact,
carefully recalling the skeleton of facts which Drew had told him
earlier in the day.
"Six months, me and Bard had been trailin' Piotto, damn his old soul!
Bard--he'd of quit cold a couple of times, but I kept him at it."
"John Bard would have quit?" asked Anthony softly.
"Sure. He was a big man, was Bard, but he didn't have none too much
endurance.
Pages:
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219