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Brand, Max, 1892-1944

"Trailin'!"

The ray of light jumped out at Bard like an
accusing arm.
Evidently a brief survey convinced Jerry Wood that the stranger was no
more than what he pretended. He opened the door wide and stepped back.
"Come in."
Bard moved inside, taking off his hat.
"How'd you happen to be lost in the hills?"
"I'm a bit of a stranger around here, you see."
The other surveyed him with a growing grin.
"I guess maybe you are. Sure, we'll put you up for the night. Where's
your hoss?"
He went out and raised the lantern above his head to look. The light
shone back from the lustrous wide eyes of the grey.
Wood turned to Bard.
"Seems to me I've seen that hoss."
"Yes. I bought it from Duffy out at Drew's place."
"Oh! Friend of Mr. Drew?"
Half a life spent on the mountain-desert had not been enough to remove
from Drew that distinguishing title of respect. The range has more great
men than it has "misters."
"Not exactly a friend," answered Bard.
"Sail right. Long's you know him, you're as good as gold with me. Come
on along to the barn and we'll knock down a feed for the hoss.


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