Oh, it's the strangest story you ever
heard. I must tell you. But you'll never believe."
"Venters, women were always puzzles to me. But for all that, if
this girl ain't a child, an' as innocent, I'm no fit person to
think of virtue an' goodness in anybody. Are you goin' to be
square with her?"
"I am--so help me God!"
"I reckoned so. Mebbe my temper oughtn't led me to make sure.
But, man, she's a woman in all but years. She's sweeter 'n the
sage."
"Lassiter, I know, I know. And the hell of it is that in spite of
her innocence and charm she's--she's not what she seems!"
"I wouldn't want to--of course, I couldn't call you a liar,
Venters," said the older man.
"What's more, she was Oldring's Masked Rider!"
Venters expected to floor his friend with that statement, but he
was not in any way prepared for the shock his words gave. For an
instant he was astounded to see Lassiter stunned; then his own
passionate eagerness to unbosom himself, to tell the wonderful
story, precluded any other thought.
"Son, tell me all about this," presently said Lassiter as he
seated himself on a stone and wiped his moist brow.
Thereupon Venters began his narrative at the point where he had
shot the rustler and Oldring's Masked Rider, and he rushed
through it, telling all, not holding back even Bess's unreserved
avowal of her love or his deepest emotions.
Pages:
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293