His keen
desert gaze could make out even at that distance the great, dark monument,
gold-crowned, in the shadow of which he had heard Lucy speak words that had
transformed life for him. He would ride out there some day. The spell of those
looming grand shafts of colored rock was still strong upon him.
One morning Slone had a visitor--old Brackton. Slone's cordiality died on his
lips before it was half uttered. Brackton's former friendliness was not in
evidence. Indeed, he looked at Slone with curiosity and disfavor.
"Howdy, Slone! I jest wanted to see what you was doin' up hyar," he said.
Slone spread his hands and explained in few words.
"So you took over the place, hey? We all figgered thet. But Vorhees was mum.
Fact is, he was sure mysterious." Brackton sat down and eyed Slone with
interest. "Folks are talkin' a lot about you," he said, bluntly.
"Is that so?"
"You 'pear to be a pretty mysterious kind of a feller, Slone. I kind of took a
shine to you at first, an' thet's why I come up hyar to tell you it'd be wise
fer you to vamoose.
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