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 "It came to me before I even started to find it, sir."

"Well, there's no use to stand here and chaw words over it, Hartwell. It's done, them Texas cattle are in here, and it may take two or three weeks to round up our herds and pick them out. Maybe they're clean cattle, maybe they're not—time alone can show that. But crooked or square, you're a bold man, Hartwell, to ride back here and face a bunch of men that believe you've done them damage beyond calculation."

Texas turned from him in his high dignity, out of patience with a man of Duncan's breadth for being so blind. Even when Hartwell's strongest plea of innocence was on his tongue he was too narrow to understand it. A guilty man would not have come back; he would have been under no such necessity.

"There's your horse, and here's your saddle, Mr. Duncan, sir. I've got three weeks' pay comin' to me, if you can see it that way, sir."

"Well, I don't see it that way!"

Duncan spoke harshly, bristling with indignation. Hartwell heard others remarking on the wonder of his gall, and what ought to be handed out to him as pay.

"I reckon I can live without it, sir," said Texas, loftily.