"How in
thunder did you get here?"
"Rode," smiled the other, showing a set of white, flashing teeth. "I
saw you pass the window. You looked rather glum, and couldn't see my
horse, I suppose. Something gone wrong?"
"Everything," grunted Dale; "that confounded young Bransford has showed
up!"
The smile left the other's face. His eyes glowed and the corners of
his mouth took on a cruel droop.
"He has, eh?" he said, slowly. His voice was expressionless. "So that
lead has petered out."
He puffed slowly at his cigar, studying Dale's face, while the latter
related what had occurred.
"So Nyland is still at large, eh?" he remarked, when Dale had finished.
"Why not set a gunman on him?"
Dale scowled. "There ain't a gunman in this section that would take a
chance on Nyland--he's lightning!" Dale cursed. "Besides, there ain't
no use in goin' after Nyland's place unless we can get the Double A."
"Then there wasn't any use of going after it yesterday, or today, as
you did," said the other. "Unless," he added, looking intently at
Dale, "the sister has been on your mind some.
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