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."What you think, Lone? I been to Thurman's ranch, and I don't find anybody.Some horses in a corral, and pigs in a pen, and chickens.I guess Thurman was living alone.Should I tell the coroner that?""I dunno," Lone replied shortly."You might speak to the sheriff.I reckon he's the man to take charge of things.""It's bad business, getting killed," Swan said vaguely."It makes me feel damn sorry when I go to that ranch.There's the horses waiting for breakfast—and Thurman, he's dead over here and can't feed his pigs and his chickens.It's a white cat over there that comes to meet me and rubs my leg and purrs like it's lonesome.That's a nice ranch he's got, too.Now what becomes of that ranch? What you think, Lone?""Hell, how should I know?" Lone scowled at him from the saddle and rode away, leaving Swan standing there staring after him.He turned away to find the sheriff and almost collided with Brit Hunter, who was glancing speculatively from him to Lone Morgan.Swan stopped and put out his hand to shake."Lone says I should tell the sheriff I could look after Fred Thurman's ranch.What you think, Mr Hunter?""Good idea, I guess.Somebody'll have to.They can't——" He checked himself."You got a horse? I'll ride over with yuh, maybe.""I got legs," Swan returned laconically."They don't get scared, Mr Hunter, and maybe kill me sometime.You could tell the sheriff I'm government hunter and honest man, and I take good care of things.You could do that, please?""Sure," said Brit and rode over to where the sheriff was standing.The sheriff listened, nodded, beckoned to Swan."The court'll have to settle up the estate and find his heirs, if he's got any.But you look after things—what's your name? Vjolmar—how yuh spell it? I'll swear you in as a deputy.Good Lord, you're a husky son-of-a-gun!" The sheriff's eyes went up to Swan's hat crown, descended to his shoulders and lingered there admiringly for a moment, travelled down his flat, hard-muscled body and his straight legs."I'll bet you could put up some fight, if you had to," he commented.Swan grinned good-humouredly, glanced conscience-stricken at the covered figure on the ground and straightened his face decorously."I could lick you good," he admitted in a stage whisper."I'm a son-off-a-gun all right—only I don't never get mad at somebody."Brit Hunter smiled at that, it was so like Swan Vjolmar.But when they were halfway to Thurman's ranch—Brit on horseback and Swan striding easily along beside him, leading the blaze-faced horse, he glanced down at Swan's face and wondered if Swan had not lied a little."What's on your mind, Swan?" he asked abruptly.Swan started and looked up at him, glanced at the empty hills on either side, and stopped still in the trail."Mr Hunter, you been longer in the country than I have been.You seen some good riding, I bet.Maybe you see some men ride backwards on a horse?"Brit looked at him uncomprehendingly."Backwards?"Swan led up the blaze-faced horse and pointed to the right stirrup."Spurs would scratch like that if you jerk your foot, maybe.You're a good rider, Mr Hunter, you can tell.That's a right stirrup, ain't it? Fred Thurman, he's got his left foot twist around, all broke from jerking in his stirrup.Left foot in right stirrup——" He pushed back his hat and rumpled his yellow hair, looking up into Brit's face inquiringly."Left foot in right stirrup is riding backwards.That's a damn good rider to ride like that—what you think, Mr Hunter?"CHAPTER VILONE ADVISES SILENCETwice in the next week Lone found an excuse for riding over to the Sawtooth.During his first visit, the foreman's wife told him that the young lady was still too sick to talk much.The second time he went, Pop Bridgers spied him first and cackled over his coming to see the girl.Lone grinned and dissembled as best he could, knowing that Pop Bridgers fed his imagination upon denials and argument and remonstrance and was likely to build gossip that might spread beyond the Sawtooth.Wherefore he did not go near the foreman's house that day, but contented himself with gathering from Pop's talk that the girl was still there.After that he rode here and there, wherever he would be likely to meet a Sawtooth rider, and so at last he came upon Al Woodruff loping along the crest of Juniper Ridge.Al at first displayed no intention of stopping, but pulled up when he saw John Doe slowing down significantly.Lone would have preferred a chat with some one else, for this was a sharp-eyed, sharp-tongued man; but Al Woodruff stayed at the ranch and would know all the news, and even though he might give it an ill-natured twist, Lone would at least know what was going on.Al hailed him with a laughing epithet."Say, you sure enough played hell all around, bringin' Brit Hunter's girl to the Sawtooth!" he began, chuckling as if he had some secret joke."Where'd you pick her up, Lone? She claims you found her at Rock City.That right?""No, it ain't right," Lone denied promptly, his dark eyes meeting Al's glance steadily."I found her in that gulch away this side.She was in amongst the rocks where she was trying to keep outa the rain.Brit Hunter's girl, is she? She told me she was going to the Sawtooth.She'd have made it, too, if it hadn't been for the storm.She got as far as the gulch, and the lightning scared her from going any farther." He offered Al his tobacco sack and fumbled for a match."I never knew Brit Hunter had a girl.""Nor me," Al said and sifted tobacco into a cigarette paper."Bob, he drove her over there yesterday.Took him close to all day to make the trip—and Bob, he claims to hate women!""So would I, if I'd got stung for fifty thousand.She ain't that kind.She's a nice girl, far as I could tell.She got well, all right, did she?""Yeah—only she was still coughing some when she left the ranch.She like to of had pneumonia, I guess.Queer how she claimed she spent the night in Rock City, ain't it?""No," Lone answered judicially, "I don't know as it's so queer.She never realised how far she'd walked, I reckon.She was plumb crazy when I found her.You couldn't take any stock in what she said.Say, you didn't see that bay I was halter-breaking, did yuh, Al? He jumped the fence and got away on me, day before yesterday.I'd like to catch him up again
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