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ND you're a goin' to wear your shoes," said Uncle Boley.

"Yes, sir, I'll save my boots till I get back in the saddle again. I'd only wear 'em out trampin' along over the road in 'em, sir—they're too good for that."

"If I had my way, Texas, you never would leave this country on foot. You'd go on a train or a horse, if I had my say. Oh, well, if I had my downright way, you wouldn't leave at all."

"You've been too kind to me already, Uncle Boley, and I haven't done anything in return but show you what a fool feller I am for mussin' and muddlin' things up. I'm through here; if I was to stay on any longer I'd get my foot into it again, somehow, and I'll just bet you a purty I would."

They were in Uncle Boley's shop, and it was late afternoon of the day following Fannie Goodnight's death. They had seen her lowered into her bed in the bare, melancholy cemetery, and Texas was now making ready for the road. The work that time had been saving for him in Cottonwood,