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Grey, Zane, 1872-1939

"Riders of the Purple Sage"

I couldn't help thinkin' how easy even a boy could hev
dropped the great gun-man then!...Wal, the rustler stood at the
bar fer a long time, en' he was seein' things far off, too; then
he come to an' roared fer whisky, an' gulped a drink thet was big
enough to drown me."
"Is Oldring here now?" whispered Venters. He could not speak
above a whisper. Judkins's story had been meaningless to him.
"He's at Snell's yet. Bern, I hevn't told you yet thet the
rustlers hev been raisin' hell. They shot up Stone Bridge an'
Glaze, an' fer three days they've been here drinkin' an' gamblin'
an' throwin' of gold. These rustlers hev a pile of gold. If it
was gold dust or nugget gold I'd hev reason to think, but it's
new coin gold, as if it had jest come from the United States
treasury. An' the coin's genuine. Thet's all been proved. The
truth is Oldrin's on a rampage. A while back he lost his Masked
Rider, an' they say he's wild about thet. I'm wonderin' if
Lassiter could hev told the rustler anythin' about thet little
masked, hard-ridin' devil. Ride! He was most as good as Jerry
Card. An', Bern, I've been wonderin' if you know--"
"Judkins, you're a good fellow," interrupted Venters. "Some day
I'll tell you a story. I've no time now. Take the horses to
Jane."
Judkins stared, and then, muttering to himself, he mounted Bells,
and stared again at Venters, and then, leading the other horses,
he rode into the grove and disappeared.


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