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Grey, Zane, 1872-1939

"Heritage of the Desert"

"See here,
stranger, you're the second man to accuse some of my riders of such dirty
tricks. That's enough for me. I was foreman of this ranch till this
minute. I was foreman, but there were things gain' on thet I didn't
know of. I kicked on thet deal with Martin Cole. I quit. I steal no
man's water. Is thet good with you?"
Snood's query was as much a challenge as a question. He bit savagely at
his pipe. Hare offered his hand.
"Your word goes. Dave Naab said you might be Holderness's foreman, but
you weren't a liar or a thief. I'd believe it even if Dave hadn't told
me."
"Them fellers you tracked rode in here yesterday. They're gone now.
I've no more to say, except I never hired them."
"I'm glad to hear it. Good-day, Snood, I'm in something of a hurry."
With that Hare faced about in the direction of White Sage. Once clear of
the corrals he saw the village closer than he had expected to find it.
He walked Silvermane most of the way, and jogged along the rest, so that
he reached the village in the twilight. Memory served him well. He rode
in as August Naab had ridden out, and arrived at the Bishop's barn-yard,
where he put up his horse.


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