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"'If you ain't out working the road, says Doc Peets to Cherokee, not heedin' of Bogg's petulance, 'them stage-robbin' times, s'pose you onfolds where you was at?" "Well, son, not to string this yere story out longer'n three drinks, yere is how it is: This Cherokee it looks like is soft-hearted that a-way, what you calls romantic.

"An elegant parcel for strangers to handle." The storekeeper's face became further troubled. "It sure is if they handle it." "Jest so." Bill's pipe was alight now, and he puffed at it vigorously, speaking between the puffs. "Y'see, this feller James plays a big game. Cattle duffin' and ord'n'ry stage-robbin' ain't good enough, nor big enough, to run his gang on.

"Cherokee gives him a stack of blues to start his game, an' is now pesterin' 'round in a co't tryin' to get the young one counter- branded from the Stingin' Lizard's outfit into his, an' given the name of Cherokee Hall. That's what takes him over to Tucson them times, an' not stage-robbin'.

"I am beginning to feel hungry." "I thought so," observed Hank, with a smile. "But there's no hurry. I can wait a little while." "You'll have to." "Now tell me who this man Tozer is?" "Wal, he's a reg'lar Motoza, except in blood. I run across him five years ago in Arizona, where he had been in the stage-robbin' bus'ness. Things got so hot he had to git out.

They were all three hard-lookin' citizens, an' might ha' been anything from bum cowpunchers to " "Sharps," put in Bill, between noisy sips at his coffee. "Yes." Minky watched a number of flies settle on a greasy patch on the bare table. "Y'see," he went on, after a thoughtful pause, "I don't like strangers who don't seem ready tongued none of us do, since the stage-robbin' set in."