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 suspected, and he had been trying to place himself and estimate his situation.

At this, he soon succeeded at least to the point of deciding that it was not risky for him to sit up.

"Good morning," he said soberly and cautiously.

Gregg rose to his feet to warm himself and lessen his stiffness from the long chill of the night; a few minutes before he had felt tired and weakened and slow; but his pulse was tapping rapidly now and pounded with fuller flow as Russell, wary of being taken at disadvantage, also got to his feet. He faced Gregg, who had his back to the side of the car forward of the open door; Russell backed to the closed door opposite and spread his arms wide along the wood to steady himself.

He had long, powerful arms and he was a good two inches taller than Gregg as he drew himself up; but, in any emergency which might confront him, he evidently meant not to depend solely on his physical superiority. Suddenly he dropped his right arm and his hand went to that trouser pocket from which Gregg had removed the revolver. Not finding his weapon, his hand quickly shifted to other pockets and he glanced at the floor where he had lain, darted his gaze to the corners of the car and then he looked at Gregg.

"You got that?"

"I took it," Gregg said; and quietly, without ostentation, he put his hand in the side pocket of the light overcoat he was wearing and, when his hand was hidden, he straightened his forefinger toward Russell and bulged the pocket.

"What in hell do you want?" Russell said next.

"Do you remember me?"

Russell drew his brows down as he gazed at Gregg and deliberated what to say. "No," he answered first;