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Brand, Max, 1892-1944

"Trailin'!"


"Why shouldn't I take a horse when they had shot down mine?"
She turned to him again, and this time her gaze went over him slowly,
curiously, but without speaking she looked back to the fire, as though
explanation of what "hoss-lifting" meant were something far beyond the
grasp of his mentality. His anger rose again, childishly, sullenly, and
he had to arm himself with indifference.
"Who'd you drop, Bard?"
"The one they call Calamity Ben."
"Is he done for?"
"Yes."
The turmoil of the scene of his escape came back to him so vividly that
he wondered why it had ever been blurred to obscurity.
She said: "In a couple of hours we'd better ride on."


CHAPTER XXXV

ABANDON
That was all; no comment, no exclamation--she continued to gaze with
that faint, retrospective smile toward the fire. He knew now why she
angered him; it was because she had held the upper hand from the minute
that ride over the short pass began--he had never once been able to
assert himself impressively. He decided to try now.
"I don't intend to ride on."
"Too tired?"
He felt the clash of her will on his, even like flint against steel,
whenever they spoke, and he began to wonder what spark would start a
fire.


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