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Updated: May 31, 2025
"Yes, I have noticed this about Margaret Hale and Dorothy McClain. I am not so sure, I think the third girl is Joan Peters," she ejaculated and relapsed into quiet again. The two women glanced at Tory and then at Edith Linder, who was at this instant coming across the yard with the tea. The two girls were an apt illustration of Memory Frean's last expressed opinion.
Suddenly it occurred to Grant that it might be a good idea to call on Phyllis. He would take Linder along. That would make it less personal. He knew his man well enough to keep his own counsel, and eventually they reached the gate of the Bruce cottage, as though by accident. "Let's turn in here. I used to know these people. Mother and daughter; very fine folk."
An "inside job," they had said. The door was locked and bolted, Mr. Linder declared, and there was no possible place for an intruder to conceal himself. Clock-work, then. "How would any human being guess what time to set it for," demanded the politician in disgust, "when I never know, myself, where I'm going to be at any given hour of any given day?"
The rancher and his wife sat at the ends of the table; Transley on the side at Y.D.'s right; Linder at Transley's right. In the better light Linder noted Y.D.'s face. It was the face of a man of fifty, possibly sixty. Life in the open plays strange tricks with the appearance. Some men it ages before their time; others seem to tap a spring of perpetual youth.
A mile down the line he found that Linder had already gathered his forces and laid out a plan of defence. The valley, from the South Y.D. to the hills, was about four miles wide, and up the full breadth of it was now coming the fire from Landson's fields. There was no natural fighting line; Linder had not so much as a buffalo path to work against.
"Linder said to beat it," he ruminated, "but I can't get back to-night anyway, an' it might be worth while to do a little scoutin'. Here goes!" He struck a smart gallop to the southward, and brought his horse up, spectacularly, a yard from the edge of the precipice. The view which his position commanded was superb.
An instant Tory was aroused from her reflections. She was alone with no one to disturb her. Why not slip into her tent and find her sketch book? She probably would have time for a sketch before Kara awakened or Edith Linder returned. Unaware of her own action, Tory shook her head. She was too tired to sketch, and worse, felt no inspiration or desire.
Linder, foreman and head teamster, cushioned his shoulders against his half load of hay and contemplated the scene with amiable satisfaction. The hay fields of the foothills had been a pleasant change from the railway grades of the plains below.
It will beat around our south flank and lick up everything!" Transley jumped from his horse. He seized Linder in his arms and literally threw him into the saddle. "You're played, boy!" he shouted in his foreman's ear. "Ride down to the river and get into the water, and stay there until you know we can win!" Then Transley threw himself into the fight.
Canvass of the local trucking industry brought to light the conveyor of that elegant article of furniture. It had gone, Average Jones learned, not to the mansion of the Honorable William Linder, as he had fondly hoped, but to an obscure address not far from the Navy Yard in Brooklyn. To this address, having looked up and gathered in the B-flat trombonist, Average Jones led the way.
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