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 "Texas"—her hand was on his arm again—"I'm not lost. I know right where I am, I know every inch of this country. I could go to Cottonwood as straight as a bullet."

"Yes, I suspected you could, Fannie."

"Texas"—earnestly, leaning toward him a little, the firelight in her bright eyes, her voice low—"there's a big herd of Texas cattle not three miles from here, and they're goin' to drive through to-night!"

He looked at her sharply, startled a little at first by the earnestness of her voice, but recovered himself almost immediately. He smiled as he threw a few small sticks on the fire to make a light.

"Did you come down to tell me?" he asked, treating it as if he considered it a joke.

"Tell you! That gang made me come—I was to hold you here, right here by this creek, till morning, so they wouldn't run into you. Tell you, hell!"

Texas was on his feet in a flash. There was no doubting the earnestness of her word, although he doubted whether she had given him the full truth of the scheme. She was beside him, looking appealingly into his eyes.

"Where are they, do you know?" he asked.

"I expect they're drivin' across by now, west of