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Updated: June 6, 2025
Even a casual encounter with the slim, brown-faced range-rider was an adventure for her. Now her pansy eyes deepened in color with excitement, with the tremulous fear of what she was to learn. "Mr. Yeager, I wanted to ask you about about the holdup." "What about it, Miss Ruth?" "Did you know any of them?" "How could I? They were masked."
She's as straight a girl as ever lived," answered Yeager in perfectly good English. Holcomb sat up straight. "Turn round, my man," he ordered crisply. The range-rider did as he was told. The light, blue-gray eyes of the officer bored into his. "You're no Mexican," charged the Texan. "No. Arizona is where I hang up my hat." "What are you, then? A spy?" "I reckon, maybeso."
Dave bought it because he did not know how to escape without. He carried it with him while he lounged up and down the sidewalk waiting for Miller to come out of the Klondike. When the fat gambler reappeared, the range-rider fell in behind him unobserved and followed uptown past the Tabor Opera House as far as California Street.
A film of hard wariness covered the eyes of the boy as he looked across in the darkness at the other man. "He's got friends," was the dry, noncommittal answer that came to the range-rider after a moment's distinct pause. Yeager asked no more questions. There had been a "No trespass" sign in Phil's manner.
He was a berry-brown youth, in the trappings of the range-rider, a little thin and stringy, perhaps, but well-poised and light-stepping. With one swift glance the fat man swept his visitor from head to foot and liked what he saw. The lean face was tanned, the jaw firm, the eye direct and steady. There was no need to tell this man to snap up his head.
"Better have a boy here to serve the liquor and cigars. If you should hear shooting, and Gabriel gets anxious about it, you can send the boy to find out what it's about. That will give us a few minutes more to get away." "Sure your dope is strong enough?" "The man who fixed it ought to know. He's a registered druggist at Phoenix," replied the range-rider.
The range-rider stood paralyzed. The truth flashed numbingly over his brain. "Ruth gone with Harrison to Noche Buena," was all he could say. Again Daisy cut in, this time sharply. "Tell us your story, Steve. What is it that's wrong?" In a dozen sentences he told it. They listened tensely. The mother was the first to break the silence after he had finished. She began to sob.
Bromfield." The man beside the girl kept his smile working and concealed the little stab of jealousy that dirked him. Colin Whitford had confided to Lindsay that his daughter was practically engaged to Clarendon Bromfield and that he did not like the man. The range-rider did not like him either, but he tried loyally to kill his distrust of the clubman.
"He's all right, Johnnie," the girl admitted with an odd little smile. "Do you want me to tell him that I'll be glad to drop our family friends to meet his approval? I don't suppose he asked you to speak to me about it, did he?" The little range-rider missed the irony of this. "No, ma'am, I jest butted in. Mebbe I hadn't ought to of spoke." The frank eyes of the girl met his fairly.
The range-rider snaked his way toward the house, moving so slowly and noiselessly that Farrar lost sight of him entirely and began to wonder where he had gone. It must have been nearly twenty minutes later that he caught a glimpse of him without his rifle. Yeager was engaged in confidential talk with a guard in uniform.
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