"I see you're a ranger," he remarked drily. "Well, I wouldn't go to
Samuels's if I was you. He's give it out that he'll kill the next ranger
that sets foot on his place."
"I've heard that sort of talk before," replied Bob impatiently.
"Samuels means what he says," stated the storekeeper. "He drove off the
last of you fellows with a shotgun--and he went too."
"You haven't told me how to get there," Bob pointed out.
"All you have to do is to turn to the right at the white church and
follow your nose," replied the man curtly.
"How far is it?"
"About four mile."
"Thank you," said Bob, and started out.
The man let him get to the door.
"Say, you!" he called.
Bob stopped.
"You might be in better business than to turn a poor man out of his
house and home."
Bob did not wait to hear the rest. As he untied his saddle horse, a man
brushed by him with what was evidently intentional rudeness, for he
actually jostled Bob's shoulder. The man jerked loose the tie rein of
his own mount, leaped to the saddle, and clattered away. Bob noticed
that he turned to the right at the white church.
Pages:
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679
680
681
682
683
684