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Bower, B. M., 1871-1940

"The Quirt"

"No use in letting this get
out," he said confidentially. "It may be that the girl's dementia is
some curable nervous disorder, and you know what an injustice it would
be if it became noised around that the girl is crazy. How much English
does that Swede know?"
"Not any more than he needs to get along on," Lone answered,
instinctively on guard. "He's all right--just a good-natured kinda cuss
that wouldn't harm anybody."
He glanced uneasily at the house, hoping that Lorraine was safe inside,
yet fearing that she would not be safe anywhere. Sane or insane, she was
in danger if Senator Warfield considered her of sufficient importance to
bring him out on horseback to the Quirt ranch. Lone knew how seldom the
owner of the Sawtooth rode on horseback since he had high-powered cars
to carry him in soft comfort.
"I'll go see if she's home," Lone explained, and reined John Doe toward
the house.
"I'll go with you," Senator Warfield offered suavely and kept alongside.
"Frank Johnson was killed, you say? How did it happen?"
"Fell off his wagon and broke his neck," Lone told him laconically.


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