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White, Stewart Edward, 1873-1946

"The Rules of the Game"

"
"If you wanted to speak to me, why didn't you say so?" demanded Bob, his
temper rising.
"Well, I don't know who your pardner is, or whether he's reliable, nor
nothin'. A man can't be too careful. I thought mebbe you'd make a chance
yourself, so I kept giving you a show to. 'Course I didn't want to be
seen by him."
"Not seen by him!" broke in Bob impatiently. "What in blazes are you
driving at! Explain yourself!"
"I showed myself plain only to you--except when he cut loose that time
with his fool six-shooter. I thought he was further in the brush. Why
didn't you make a chance to talk?"
"Why should I?" burst out Bob. "Will you kindly explain to me why I
should make a chance to talk to you; and why I've been dragged out here
in the dead of night?"
"No call to get mad," expostulated the man in rather discouraged tones;
"I just thought as how mebbe you was still feeling friendly-like. My
mistake. But I reckon you won't be giving me away anyhow?"
During this speech he had slowly produced from his hip pocket a frayed
bandana handkerchief; as slowly taken off his hat and mopped his brow.


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