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Raw Gold

Chapter 5 MOUNTED AGAIN.

Word Count: 1383    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

became invisible to each other. I followed behind MacRae more or less mechanically, though I was, in a way, acutely conscious of the

while I pulled out the snag, which had broken off the trunk, and while I was about this a familiar clattering noise uprose near-by. Ever hear a horse shake himself, like a water-spaniel fresh from a dip, when he has been tied for a long time in one place with the dead weight of a heavy stock saddle on his back? There is a little by-play of g

uck-brush, listening, and a few seconds later heard a horse snort distinctly. T

re than one, I think. Let's investigat

I ran my hand over the saddle and knew it instantly for Bruce Haggin's rig. A half-minute of quiet prowling revealed our full quota of livestock, even to the pack-horse th

erstand why a horse-thief yields to temptation and finally becomes confirmed in his habit. It was rather an odd thing for those outlaws

sion of feeling. Primed for trouble if we could jump it out of the brush, we rode the bottom for half an hour. But o

e Double R had closed out. He said Hank had got into a ruction with Dick Feltz-you recollect there was considerable feeling between them in our time down there-and killed him one day at Fort Worth. Feltz had some folks that took it up, and Hank had to spend a barrel of money to come clear. That, and a range

dith Basin, and southern outfits haven't begun to come in there yet. So I haven't had much chance to hear from that part of the world. But

ke on the Peace-Peace River, I suppose he meant. There's been a lot of placer mining in that north country the last three or four years. Th

ith a fortune in yellow dust. But my imagination was hardly equal to the task of reconciling the fact that the evil pair had been busy at other deviltry and yet knew I carried a large

there, this morning. But she might be due to arrive there. Hang

the futility of sentiment, and the damned silliness of a man who thinks he cares for a woman. But I'm past that stage. And so I can't say for sure just how it was or why. Something came up between me and Lyn-and I drifted, and ke

ure of delivering, for my hasty flitting took me out other trails than the one that led to the home ranch. And so they had parted-gone different ways-probably in anger. Well, that's only another example of the average human's cussedness. Lyn could be just as haughty as she was sweet and gracious, which was natural enough, seeing she'd ruled a cattle k

s of Pend d' Oreille loomed ahead of us in the night. Tired and

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