"Haven't seen or heard of her. So far as I know she may not be
alive now. This locket is the first hint I have had since she was
taken away, the very first news of her that has reached me, and I
don't know what to make of that. One of the robbers must have
been wearing it, the way I figure it out. Where did he get it?
That's what I want to know."
"Suppose you tell me the story, seh," suggested the ranger
gently.
The cattleman offered O'Connor a cigar and lit one himself. For a
minute he puffed slowly at his Havana, leaning far back in his
chair with eyes reminiscent and half shut. Then he shook himself
back into the present and began his tale.
"I don't reckon you ever heard tell of Dave Henderson. It was
back in Texas I knew him, and he's been missing sixteen years
come the eleventh of next August. For fifteen years I haven't
mentioned his name, because Dave did me the dirtiest wrong that
one man ever did another. Back in the old days he and I used to
trail together. We was awful thick, and mostly hunted in couples.
We began riding the same season back on the old Kittredge Ranch,
and we went in together for all the kinds of spreeing that young
fellows who are footloose are likely to do.
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