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 "You're all right, Fannie; you're as straight as a plumb-line."

"No, money wouldn't square what Stott owes you and me, Texas. I guess we'll have to cross that off—if I'm going to stay square."

"We've got to cross off a lot of things in this world," sighed he.

"Yes, when you stand clean and think square, I guess you have, kid. You're clean—it isn't hard for you. So is that girl with the big brown eyes. Maybe if I was—"

"You're as square as a die!" he protested.

"Oh, go on up and see her!" said Fannie crossly.

There were not many people in the street at that hour of the forenoon, and the few who passed behind them where they stood on the edge of the sidewalk facing into the street heeded them no more than they would have any pair of cowboys. They were as much alone, indeed, as they would have been in seclusion, as far as public notice was concerned. Texas put his hand on her shoulder and looked into her face.

"Fannie, there's no reason why I should go to Uncle Boley's, not any more at all, as I know of. We'll go back to the ho-tel, and set down and talk things over, for our roads are beginning to stretch out from the forks, and we'll be ridin' our ways, far apart, di-rec'ly."