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Fifteen years in the saddle had given him a toughness of fiber no city dweller could possibly equal. Nights under the multiple stars in the hills, cool, invigorating mornings with the pine-filled air strong as wine in his clean blood, long days of sunshine full of action, had all contributed to make him the young Hermes that he was.
One morning, lying luxuriously back among his cushions and inhaling the pine-filled air with relish, Drew electrified Filmer, who sat near him on the porch railing, by observing calmly: "Filmer, I've a load of questions I want to ask." "Heave 'em out." Jock sighed resignedly. Of course, he had anticipated this hour, and he knew that he must be the high priest.
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