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 CHAPTER XXIII

LEFTY'S FICKLE MEMORY

They left him there, shaking with rage. He heard them laugh outside the door when it had closed behind them, and he lifted and shook both his fists in their direction.

"Ye shan't have him!" he snarled. "I'll never give the boy up! It's one o' Bancroft's mean tricks. They'll do anything to get ahead of Kingsbridge. It's a measly shame they've tumbled to who the youngster is. I'd give somethin' to find out how that happened."

He stopped suddenly, a hand lifted, his head thrown back, his mouth open.

"I know!" he breathed. "That must be th' way it was. Bent King come to me and asked a heap of questions 'bout Lefty—where was he from, how did I find him, was he a college man?—and all that. I didn't tell him nothin', but all the time I had an oneasy feelin' that he knowed more'n was a good thing f'r him to know. If Bent's been and blowed he oughter be shot!"

Henry Cope did not sleep well that night, and