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 after Mis' Habersham. He's the only man in Painted Rock that don't see it."

That was true enough, as I found out after a month or so. There was an extraordinary reluctance among the quieter inhabitants of the town to say anything about the matter. It was no one's business but Habersham's, and Habersham was just the man to kill the fool who warned him there and then. Nevertheless there was talk, and the baser-minded sort soon averred that the talk had a sound basis to go on. There was a strange row about this in the American Saloon which was very characteristic of the place and its people, and, for the matter of that, of the West likewise. It was started by Sibley Ranger from Double Mountain Fork, who used to come into town and fill up beyond any limit of discretion once a fortnight.

"Haow's George Weekes' huntin' progressin'?" he asked Gedge, who was sitting on a bench with Pillsbury.

"Did you speak to me?" asked Gedge, with a danger signal in his voice.

"To you, Keno Gedge," said Ranger,