"If
I weren't able to take care of myself August Naab would never have said
so."
Had Hare asked himself what he intended to do when he faced Holderness he
could not have told. His feelings were pent-in, bound, but at the bottom
something rankled. His mind seemed steeped in still thunderous
atmosphere.
How well he remembered the quaint wide street, the gray church! As he
rode many persons stopped to gaze at Silvermane. He turned the corner
into the main thoroughfare. A new building had been added to the several
stores. Mustangs stood, bridles down, before the doors; men lounged
along the railings.
As he dismounted he heard the loungers speak of his horse, and he saw
their leisurely manner quicken. He stepped into the store to meet more
men, among them August Naab's friend Abe. Hare might never have been in
White Sage for all the recognition he found, but he excited something
keener than curiosity. He asked for spurs, a clasp-knife and some other
necessaries, and he contrived, when momentarily out of sight behind a
pile of boxes, to whisper his identity to Abe. The Mormon was
dumbfounded.
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