"We'll annex the first animal we come
across. By jingoes, we made a haul, didn't we? Accordin' to the
marks on this money there's $30,000--$15,000 apiece!"
"It's short of what I expected," said Shark Dodson, kicking softly at
the packages with the toe of his boot. And then he looked pensively at
the wet sides of his tired horse.
"Old Bolivar's mighty nigh played out," he said, slowly. "I wish that
sorrel of yours hadn't got hurt."
"So do I," said Bob, heartily, "but it can't be helped. Bolivar's got
plenty of bottom--he'll get us both far enough to get fresh mounts.
Dang it, Shark, I can't help thinkin' how funny it is that an
Easterner like you can come out here and give us Western fellows cards
and spades in the desperado business. What part of the East was you
from, anyway?"
"New York State," said Shark Dodson, sitting down on a boulder and
chewing a twig. "I was born on a farm in Ulster County. I ran away
from home when I was seventeen. It was an accident my coming West. I
was walkin' along the road with my clothes in a bundle, makin' for New
York City. I had an idea of goin' there and makin' lots of money. I
always felt like I could do it. I came to a place one evenin' where
the road forked and I didn't know which fork to take.
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