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He used to grit his teeth together till the sparks flew when he saw me. I was afraid he'd bust a blood-vessel in one of them fits, so I quit. I hated to let go of the old ranch, but I'm pretty well fixed I'm superintendent here. It's Kyle's ranch, you know. That's his brand the queer-looking thing on the left hip of that critter, over the vented hash-knife. Loys's invention, that is.
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