Keep away from them villages.
You won't run no risk of meetin' any of Oldrin's rustlers from
Sterlin' on. You'll find water in them deep hollows north of the
Notch. There's an old trail there, not much used, en' it leads to
Sterlin'. That's your trail. An' one thing more. If Tull pushes
you--or keeps on persistent-like, for a few miles--jest let the
blacks out an' lose him an' his riders."
"Lassiter, may we meet again!" said Venters, in a deep
voice.
"Son, it ain't likely--it ain't likely. Well, Bess
Oldrin'--Masked Rider--Elizabeth Erne--now you climb on Black
Star. I've heard you could ride. Well, every rider loves a good
horse. An', lass, there never was but one that could beat Black
Star."
"Ah, Lassiter, there never was any horse that could beat Black
Star," said Jane, with the old pride.
"I often wondered--mebbe Venters rode out that race when he
brought back the blacks. Son, was Wrangle the best hoss?"
"No, Lassiter," replied Venters. For this lie he had his reward
in Jane's quick smile.
"Well, well, my hoss-sense ain't always right. An' here I'm
talkie' a lot, wastin' time. It ain't so easy to find an' lose a
pretty niece all in one hour! Elizabeth--good-by!"
"Oh, Uncle Jim!...Good-by!"
"Elizabeth Erne, be happy! Good-by," said
Jane.
"Good-by--oh--good-by!" In lithe, supple action Bess swung up to
Black Star's saddle.
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