I was in bad shape
for days. But I got well--an'--an' then she wanted me to let her run Wildfire
in the big race. I couldn't refuse. . . . An' it would have been a great race
but for the unlucky accident to Sage King. I'm sorry, sir."
"Slone, it jarred me some, thet disappointment. But it's over," replied
Bostil. "An' so thet's how Lucy found her hoss. She sure was mysterious. . . .
Wal, wal." Bostil became aware of others behind him. "Holley, shake hands with
Slone, hoss-wrangler out of Utah. . . . You, too, Cal Blinn. . . . An'
Macomber--an' Wetherby, meet my friend here--young Slone. . . . An', Cordts,
shake hands with a feller thet owns a grand hoss!"
Bostil laughed as he introduced the horse-thief to Slone. The others laughed,
too, even Cordts joining in. There was much of the old rider daredevil spirit
left in Bostil, and it interested and amused him to see Cordts and Slone meet.
Assuredly Slone had heard of the noted stealer of horses. The advantage was
certainly on Cordts's side, for he was good-natured and pleasant while Slone
stiffened, paling slightly as he faced about to acknowledge the introduction.
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