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Brand, Max, 1892-1944

"Trailin'!"


The grey, at his coming, flattened back its ears, as though it knew that
more hard work was coming, but he saddled rapidly, led it outside, and
rode a short distance into the forest. There he stopped.
His course lay due north, and then a swerve to the side and a straight
course west for the ranch of William Drew. If the hounds of the law were
so close on his trace, they certainly would never suspect him of
doubling back in this manner, and he would have the rancher to himself
when he arrived.
Yet still he did not start the grey forward to the north. For to the
south lay Sally Fortune, and at the thought of her a singular hollowness
came about his heart, a loneliness, not for himself, but for her. Yes,
in a strange way all self was blotted from his emotion.
It would be a surrender to turn back--now.
And like a defeated man who rides in a lost cause, he swung the grey to
the south and rode back over the trail, his head bowed.


CHAPTER XXXVII

"TODO ES PERDO"
It was not long after the departure of Bard that Sally Fortune awoke.
For a step had creaked on the floor, and she looked up to find Steve
Nash standing in the centre of the room with the firelight gloomily
about him; behind, blocking the door with his squat figure, stood Shorty
Kilrain.


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