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White, Stewart Edward, 1873-1946

"The Rules of the Game"

He loved this life, this cause. It
opened out into wider and more beautiful vistas the further he
penetrated into it. He conceived it the only life for which he was
particularly fitted by temperament and inclination. To give it up would
be to cut himself off from all that he cared for most in active life;
and would be to cast him into the drudgery of new and uncongenial lines.
That sacrifice must be made. It's contemplation and complete realization
could wait. But a deeper necessity held Bob, the necessity of resolving
the question of equities which the accident of his personal knowledge of
Welton and Baker had evoked. He had to prove his instincts right or
wrong.
He was not quite ready to submit the matter officially, but he wished
very much to talk it over with some one. Glancing up he caught sight of
the glitter of silver and the satin sheen of a horse. Star was coming
down through the trees, resplendent in his silver and carved leather
trappings, glossy as a bird, stepping proudly and daintily under the
curbing of his heavy Spanish bit. In the saddle lounged the tall, homely
figure of old California John, clad in faded blue overalls, the brim of
his disreputable, ancient hat flopped down over his lean brown face, and
his kindly blue eyes.


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