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TO MY WIFE BONNIE O’NEAL EMERSON
TO MY WIFE BONNIE O’NEAL EMERSON
Our enchanting years of pleasure, dear, are speeding all too fast, As our ever-fleeting joys become blest mem’ries of the past. Heaven’s blessings, glad and golden, strew with bliss the paths of life When a sweetheart, fond and cheery, Has her “hubby” for her dearie, And her “hubby” has a sweetheart for his wife. —The Author. January 18, 1917. CONTENTS CHAPTER I—Guadalupe CHAPTER II—Charmed Lives CHAPTER III—Feminine Attractions CHAPTER IV—Back to the Soil CHAPTER V—At La Siesta CHAPTER VI—The Q
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CHAPTER I—Guadalupe
CHAPTER I—Guadalupe
I T was a June morning in mid-California. The sun was just rising over the rim of the horizon, dissipating the purple haze of dawn and bathing in golden sunshine a great valley spread out like a parchment scroll. It was a rural scene of magnificent grandeur—encircling mountains, rolling foothills, and then the vast expanse of plain dotted here and there with clumps of trees and clothed with luxuriant grasses. Thousands of cattle were bestirring themselves from their slumbers—some sniffing the ai
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CHAPTER II—Charmed Lives
CHAPTER II—Charmed Lives
T HE spell of restraint that resulted from Buck Ashley’s story was at last broken by the cowboy, Jack Rover. “Look here, Dick,” he exclaimed, “I’ll give a month’s salary if you will let me take a chance and follow old Guadalupe. I’ve simply got to find out and locate that sand-bar in some mountain stream from which she brings in all this gold. This is the third time I’ve seen our friend Buck Ashley collect a grocery bill from the old squaw, and the whole business, gold nuggets and all, is gettin
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CHAPTER III—Feminine Attractions
CHAPTER III—Feminine Attractions
T OM BAKER, the sheriff, cleared his throat. “You fellers, I’m assoomin’, are all boys. I have been loafin’ ‘round in this man’s land for forty years. I was here the day Don Manuel had been buryin’ his old father and mother from the little Mission Church, less than a quarter of a mile from where we are settin’. He was standin’ right in front of this store when young Ben Thurston and two of his ranch hands rode up. If ever I saw real bravery it was that mornin’. Don’t take much bravery to do some
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CHAPTER IV—Back to the Soil
CHAPTER IV—Back to the Soil
J ACK ROVER is a great boy,” said Dick Willoughby to Lieutenant Munson as the two rode off at a leisurely pace toward the group of ranch buildings peeping through a clump of trees at the edge of the foothills. “A type of Western character,” replied Munson, “that in a way is quite new to me. And yet, do you know, I rather like this Western atmosphere.” “Like it!” exclaimed Dick. “Why, man, it is the atmosphere in which to live, move and have one’s being.” They both laughed at his enthusiasm. “Rea
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CHAPTER V—At La Siesta
CHAPTER V—At La Siesta
S OON after one o’clock Dick Willoughby and Chester Munson were again in the saddle. They galloped along the foothills for some time in silence. But coming to the boulder-strewn wash of a mountain stream, they had perforce to rein their horses to a walk. Conversation was now possible. “Dick, will you give me a job as a cowboy if I quit the army?” asked Munson abruptly. “Surest thing you know,” replied Dick. “But why try to kid me like that?” “Oh,” laughed the other, “I am not jesting.” “Well, by
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CHAPTER VI—The Quarrel
CHAPTER VI—The Quarrel
T HE following days were busy ones on San Antonio Rancho. Dick Willoughby was constantly in the saddle, looking after his subordinates, watching the line fences, and generally keeping track of the vast herds. Lieutenant Munson was becoming acclimated. He not only accompanied Willoughby on many of his rides, but had also paid several visits to La Siesta, and one afternoon in particular had enjoyed immensely a successful trout fishing expedition with the young ladies along the mountain stream that
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CHAPTER VII—Old Bandit Days
CHAPTER VII—Old Bandit Days
O N the evening of the day that followed the big round-up of cattle, Dick Willoughby and Chester Munson rode over to the store. As they cantered along, both men were pre-occupied with their thoughts. Dick was not worrying over his sharp passage of words with his employer’s son, for he knew that his services at the present time were quite indispensable, more especially if the rancho was to be sold to the best advantage. The owner had spoken lightly of the negotiations, and had chuckled in a sinis
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CHAPTER VIII—A Letter from San Quentin
CHAPTER VIII—A Letter from San Quentin
B UCK ASHLEY had retired into the partitioned-off section of the store that formed the postoffice, and was busy stamping and sorting out the mail. The scattered loiterers outside crowded into the building expectantly, and the local parliament was in session. Amid the buzz of conversation Willoughby could not but hear his own name mentioned, coupled with that of Marshall Thurston. He understood quite well that all manner of gossip was flying around in regard to the quarrel at the round-up. But he
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CHAPTER IX—Tia Teresa
CHAPTER IX—Tia Teresa
T EN days had passed and the count of the stock on San Antonio Rancho had been completed, every canyon searched, the last wandering maverick roped and branded, the number of fat beeves accurately estimated. Three members of the Los Angeles syndicate had arrived in a big automobile and remained over night at the ranch house. Most of the time they had been closeted with Ben Thurston in his office, and had finally taken their departure without exchanging a word with anyone else on the rancho. Nobod
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CHAPTER X—The Home of the Recluse
CHAPTER X—The Home of the Recluse
A T a gentle pace they wound their way through the forest of magnificent old oaks. As for Munson, riding by Grace Darlington’s side, the miles were the shortest he had ever before traversed. It seemed only a few minutes before the red tiled roof and towers of a house built in the California Mission style were gleaming through the trees only a short distance ahead. Great oaken doors closed the arched gateway, but at the clatter of hoofs and the sound of voices, a little peep-hole wicket was withd
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CHAPTER XI—A Rejected Suitor
CHAPTER XI—A Rejected Suitor
I N Dick Willoughby’s presence Marshall Thurston contented himself with sullen looks. But beyond his sight and hearing he spoke truculently of what he was going to do some day to get level with “the hired hand who had had the infernal insolence to call him down in public.” So all the little world on the rancho knew, or at least believed, that a bitter feud was in progress. Two or three of the cowboys fostered young Marshall’s feelings of animosity, partly out of sheer devilment, partly because t
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CHAPTER XII—The Sped Bullet
CHAPTER XII—The Sped Bullet
M EANWHILE events had been happening in the conning tower high up among the hills. The Mexican boy on duty had observed the lone rider approaching the gateway at La Siesta, and for a brief few moments had put the figure under observation by the telescope. He had then sprung alertly erect and pressed a button on the wall. Mr. Robles had quickly responded to the summons, and it was he who had had his eye to the lens during the scene in the rose garden which had terminated in the ignominious expuls
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CHAPTER XIII—Accused
CHAPTER XIII—Accused
A ROUND the horse corral at the San Antonio Rancho some half-dozen cowboys were squatted on their heels, cowboy-fashion, swapping the news of the day. They had ridden in from various points of the compass, and two or three of their horses, those of the latest comers, still stood saddled outside the enclosure, the reins dropped loosely over their heads, which for the trained cow-pony is just as effective an anchorage as any stake and rope. Two or three cigarettes were a-light, and the “makings” w
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CHAPTER XIV—Entanglements
CHAPTER XIV—Entanglements
F ROM the observatory high up among the hills, Mr. Robles had witnessed the arrest and the departure of the prisoner. He had understood every move just as if he had been present on the verandah down below and had heard each spoken word. As he stood erect, his hand still rested on the telescope. For a few moments he pondered, then murmured to himself as he turned to leave the room: “A bad complication! I must break the news tonight to Merle. Poor little girl!” But it was two hours later before he
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CHAPTER XV—Behind the Bars
CHAPTER XV—Behind the Bars
D ick Willoughby had been lodged in the county jail at Bakersfield, duly charged by Ben Thurston as the murderer of his son. To his surprise, and indeed to his dismay, the prisoner was informed that, the crime alleged being a capital one, no bail could be accepted. This was first of all a blow to Willoughby’s pride. Here he was under the stigma of imprisonment, but with no possibility of redress. It was not the loss of comforts, the deprivation of personal liberty, the hardships to body and to s
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CHAPTER XVI—Pierre Luzon Returns
CHAPTER XVI—Pierre Luzon Returns
I N the outside world the question on everybody’s lips was—who had fired the fatal shot among the pine woods? The young reprobate had been thoroughly despised, but he had no known enemies except Willoughby. So while Willoughby’s staunch friends could only reiterate the question in vain perplexity, most people were inclined to answer it with Dick’s name. The angry quarrel between the two young men was universally known and had been subjected to sundry embellishments—for example, the threatened ho
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CHAPTER XVII—The Bitter Bit
CHAPTER XVII—The Bitter Bit
O N the very night of Pierre Luzon’s return, Ben Thurston was in close colloquy with his attorney, summoned specially from New York. It was not only the murder of his son that had brought about this consultation. The owner of San Antonio Rancho, while filled with fury against Dick Willoughby, was also gravely perturbed over other things. Immediately after dinner the two men shut themselves up in Thurston’s office. Thurston opened the safe and produced a little bundle of neatly-folded, legal-look
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CHAPTER XVIII—Elusive Riches
CHAPTER XVIII—Elusive Riches
I N the meantime the quartet at the store were making a night of it. With old Pierre Luzon peacefully asleep in the adjoining room, there were many things to speak about. Tom Baker recounted in elaborate detail his story of interviews with the governor and state officials at Sacramento, the weary and harassing delays before parole was finally granted, his own dogged determination, together with the artful pulling of political strings that had finally brought about the results desired. Then there
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CHAPTER XIX—The Jail Delivery
CHAPTER XIX—The Jail Delivery
A ROUND Dick Willoughby there had been woven a web of circumstantial evidence that even before his trial had convinced most people of his guilt. Only a few tried friends who absolutely refused to believe him capable of shooting down an unarmed man from ambush clung to their faith that he had had nothing to do with the slaying of young Marshall Thurston. Among the general public the only question in discussion was whether the jury were likely to find extenuating circumstances and, should the life
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CHAPTER XX—In the Cavern
CHAPTER XX—In the Cavern
W HEN Dick proceeded to follow Pierre Luzon he found that the ponies had already trotted away through the semidarkness, evidently quite capable on their own account of finding their accustomed stable. Leading the way across the cavern, Pierre entered a corridor at the far end of which bright lights were burning. Soon, Dick, to his great wonderment, found himself in a comfortably, almost luxuriously furnished apartment. There were big thick rugs on the floor, and the rock walls were completely hi
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CHAPTER XXI—A Debt of Honor
CHAPTER XXI—A Debt of Honor
P UBLIC excitement had been running high over the approaching trial of Dick Willoughby, but his delivery from jail by the masked night-riders came as the culminating climax. Mystery and romance were piling up. Despite the strength of the circumstantial evidence, the sudden fate that had overtaken the young heir to San Antonio rancho had been shrouded with uncertainty; no witness had seen the actual doing of the murderous deed. The sensational arrest of Dick Willoughby had been followed by his st
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CHAPTER XXII—Underqround Wonders
CHAPTER XXII—Underqround Wonders
D ick Willoughby was in a way happy in his retreat. At first he had been inclined to regret the jail delivery—it might have been the manlier part to have faced the music and cleared his name before the whole world. But then he reflected on the uncertainties of a trial, the cases of innocent men having suffered because of damning circumstantial evidence piled up against them, the vindictiveness of Ben Thurston and the undoubted power of his money to press the criminal charge by every unscrupulous
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CHAPTER XXIII—The Unexpected Visitor
CHAPTER XXIII—The Unexpected Visitor
M OST of the cattle had been driven off the land. The vaqueros had dispersed to the four points of the compass. Chester Munson had vacated his room in Dick Willoughby’s old home, and had taken up his residence and library duties at Mr. Robles’ mansion on the hill. Sing Ling had folded his tent like the Arab and silently stolen away in the same direction. A small army of surveyors had appeared on the scene and were quartered in the rancho buildings. The only one of the old-timers who still linger
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CHAPTER XXIV—In a Tight Corner
CHAPTER XXIV—In a Tight Corner
D ICK’S after-dark visit to La Siesta was only the first of several that followed at intervals of a few days. He came and departed mysteriously, and during his brief stay every precaution was taken that no one except his few trusted friends should know of his presence. But by some means or other a whisper had reached the ear of the sleuth, Leach Sharkey, that the fugitive had been seen at the home of Mrs. Darlington. When the news was imparted to Ben Thurston, the old man quivered from excitemen
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CHAPTER XXV—Love and Revenge
CHAPTER XXV—Love and Revenge
B EYOND the oleanders a tall thick hedge of cypress favored the flight of the fugitive. At the end of the gardens Tia Teresa took a little path that dipped into the river bed, and when they ascended again out of the hollow, Dick found himself quite close to the grove where Pierre was in hiding with the ponies. By this time the young fellow was angry with himself for having fled so precipitately. He was full of solicitude for Merle. Why had not he remained to defend her from the brutality of that
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CHAPTER XXVI—A Date is Fixed
CHAPTER XXVI—A Date is Fixed
O N the morning after the exciting episode at La Siesta, Chester Munson was in the library of Mr. Robles’ home ready for his day’s duties. But he was in no mood for the routine work of cataloging and classifying the volumes on the bookshelves. Up to now the task had been one of absorbing interest, for Munson, although not a scholar, had always been fond of reading, and it was a treat to dip at times into the contents of the rare and curious works which wealth and the educated taste of a true bib
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CHAPTER XXVII—Among the Old Oaks
CHAPTER XXVII—Among the Old Oaks
P IERRE, now my sketches and plans are finished, how am I going to pass the time?” It was some ten days after the affair at La Siesta, and Dick had spent the interval in close and absorbed work over his drawing board. Happy in his occupation, he had not felt the restraints of confinement. But now that the task was completed, and the big cardboard cylinder containing the set of drawings rested on the ledge of the easel all ready to be sent away on its mission, a feeling of chafing restlessness ha
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CHAPTER XXVIII—The Prize Winner
CHAPTER XXVIII—The Prize Winner
D ICK WILLOUGHBY’S sensational escape from La Siesta had added another thrill to the mystery surrounding the murder of Marshall Thurston. But as week succeeded week without further incident, the affair gradually faded away as a topic of conversation. All the talk now was about the coming of the new town. The fever of speculation was in the air. “Say, boys,” remarked Jack Rover one evening to his two cronies at the store, “I’m sure getting crazy about the new town. I’ve got a thousand bones of my
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CHAPTER XXIX—-The Rendezvous
CHAPTER XXIX—-The Rendezvous
S UMMER had come and gone and it was now the early days of October. The mystery of Dick Willoughby’s disappearance had remained unsolved, yet it was on his plans that the new city of Tejon had been laid out, and, like the fabled palace in the Arabian Nights’ tale, had sprung into being with such rapidity that men rubbed their eyes to satisfy themselves whether the transformation scene were an actuality or the baseless fabric of a dream. Within three months of the opening day auction of lots Tejo
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CHAPTER XXX—Don Manuel Appears
CHAPTER XXX—Don Manuel Appears
A GOODLY little sack of water-worn nuggets of gold had been washed out of the subterranean stream by Pierre Luzon and Dick Willoughby. The captive had found in the work both an exciting pastime and the ease of mind that comes from the thought that his time was being spent to profitable account. So week after week he had toiled on cheerfully, setting for himself each day a full day’s task. In this way also, although the want of sunshine had paled his cheeks, he had maintained his health by the re
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CHAPTER XXXI—Shadows of the Past
CHAPTER XXXI—Shadows of the Past
I N a little summer-house at the edge of the rose garden of La Siesta, Tia Teresa was seated all alone. She was awaiting the coming of Mr. Robles to a rendezvous which he had arranged by a confidential message sent on the previous evening. It wanted some time yet of the appointed hour, but in her state of deep emotion and repressed excitement she had gladly sought the solitude of this secluded corner. Deep in thought, her mind was divided between the faraway past and the near-impending future. E
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CHAPTER XXXII—Forebodings
CHAPTER XXXII—Forebodings
F OR this last hour, Don Manuel,” she said, placing a hand on his, “I have been going over all the long story of the past, from the days when you were a little boy and Rosetta was suckled at my bosom. Why should I not have loved her?” asked the old duenna almost fiercely. “Why should I not love her still?” she added, in a lower tone, as she bowed her head and covered her eyes with her disengaged hand. “There is love that can never die, Don Manuel.” “Nor should we wish it otherwise,” he said gent
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CHAPTER XXXIII—Old Friends
CHAPTER XXXIII—Old Friends
A M glad to find you alone,” spoke Mr. Robles, as he advanced into the subdued light of Mrs. Darlington’s boudoir. She was seated at her escritoire. Around her were letters lying open for answer, others sealed and ready for the mail, also sundry books of account which indicated that the chatelaine of La Siesta was a business woman who paid attention to the running of her household and the management of her estate. “Always so pleased to see you,” she replied, as she rose to give her visitor welco
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CHAPTER XXXIV—Heart Searchings
CHAPTER XXXIV—Heart Searchings
A S Mrs. Darlington had anticipated, the trio of young Americans were discovered in the cosy corner. Grace and Munson were engaged in a tête-à-tête that was obviously very delightful to themselves, while Merle at a discreet distance was busily engaged in watering the pot plants and flowers. She was the first to sound a note of warning. “Here comes mother, and Mr. Robles, also, I do declare.” The young lovers started a little apart, and Grace in a moment was demurely busy over a bit of sewing tha
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CHAPTER XXXV—At Comanche Point
CHAPTER XXXV—At Comanche Point
B EN THURSTON, during the afternoon, seated in his big armchair, had first nodded over a newspaper and then dropped off to sleep. He was awakened by a touch on the shoulder—rudely awakened, for he jumped to his feet, and in a dazed way glared at the disturber. “Excuse me,” apologized Leach Sharkey, “but I want to remind you that this is the afternoon when we are to meet that old Portugee I told you about.” “I need no reminder,” was the gruff reply. “I am ready to start when you are. By the way,
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CHAPTER XXXVI—-Outwitted
CHAPTER XXXVI—-Outwitted
P IERRE LUZON led Leach Sharkey along the trail. Beyond Comanche Point it dipped again owing to the contour of the mountain, then at a distance of about fifty yards, took a sharp turn round an abrupt face of rock. “Where the hell are you taking me?” asked the sleuth, as they approached this bend. “Only a little further,” replied the guide, in a feeble quavering voice as he glanced over his shoulder. The men were only a few paces apart. In the shadow cast by the cliff, Pierre’s pallid face with i
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CHAPTER XXXVII—The Dawn of Comprehension
CHAPTER XXXVII—The Dawn of Comprehension
A LL through the afternoon at La Siesta, Merle was in a meditative mood. After luncheon Mrs. Darlington had returned to her letter-writing and her book-keeping. Munson and Grace had departed for a walk through the pine woods, after vain but not too strenuous endeavors to get Merle to accompany them. Left to her own resources she had retired to the drawing room, had tried to interest herself at the piano, but after a little while had given up the attempt; and, coiled in a big chair, had surrender
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CHAPTER XXXVIII—Exit Leach Sharkey
CHAPTER XXXVIII—Exit Leach Sharkey
T HE ponies were jogging down the trail, Leach Sharkey uncomfortably lurching in his saddle when some sudden bend or dip was encountered, Dick Willoughby good-humoredly holding him on when such emergencies rendered the service advisable if an ignominious fall were to be avoided. There was a song of joy in Dick’s heart—liberty was at hand; he was riding down from the hills to join his loved one again. But there was sullen brooding in the soul of the outwitted sleuth—growing more sullen with every
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CHAPTER XXXIX—The Fight on the Cliff
CHAPTER XXXIX—The Fight on the Cliff
F OR a few moments Don Manuel contemplated the cowering figure of Ben Thurston in contemptuous silence. His end was accomplished; his enemy was in his power; like the cat with the mouse just a few inches from its paw, he could strike at any moment. He spoke now with measured calm. “Do you remember what day this is? The eleventh of October.” He paused for a reply. Thurston’s lips were parted but remained dumb. Don Manuel resumed: “Thirty years ago this very night—here at this very spot, you bruta
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CHAPTER XL—Revelation
CHAPTER XL—Revelation
M ERLE paused at the foot of the stairway leading up to one of the towers where Tia Teresa had her room. She deliberated for a moment, consulted the tiny watch on her wrist, then turned to retrace her footsteps. “There will be plenty of time,” she murmured to herself. “I shall be best able to manage Tia Teresa when I know still more than I do now.” She repaired to her own room and put on her automobile cloak, cap, and veil. Without telling anyone of her plan, she left the house, went to the gara
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CHAPTER XLI—Beneath the Precipice
CHAPTER XLI—Beneath the Precipice
W ILLOUGHBY had found his friends Munson and Jack Rover at Buck Ashley’s old store, eagerly awaiting his coming, with a fine supper sizzling on the cook stove, prepared in Jack’s finest professional cowboy style. “We’ve got to feed you up a bit, I reckon,” grinned Jack, as he slipped the Gargantuan slab of beef-steak from the griller on to the big hot dish waiting for its reception. “And some potatoes, too,” he went on, “not forgetting the fried onions that beat all your newfangled sauces to a f
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