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snake, represented by Hollister, was scotched. Whether its backbone was broken, Sheridan doubted. At all events it would not disturb the Eden of the Hidden Homestead, now doubly protected, and that, aside from Quong, was the main issue. Quong went on the even tenor of his way, cooking meticulously from the recipes in the book and scoring success after success. He never mentioned his rescue nor did Sheridan refer to it. But he sensed that the Chinaman had a lively appreciation of what had been done for him and was waiting, in his mysterious, Oriental way, for the moment in which to show his gratitude. Why such a man had isolated himself on Chico Mesa remained an unanswered and constant query. That it was done from no idle whim, that Metzal had been deliberately selected, Sheridan was convinced. The man was far removed from a coolie. His personal habits, his manners, more those of a diplomat than a cook, his reserved poise that held the liking of the rollicking cowboys while it prevented them from playing upon him the practical jokes they loved, proved that.

Sheridan kept in touch with the outside world by certain magazines, which, with the exception of 114