"He won't git
nothing out of me," he shot back over his shoulder.
Bob now knew exactly where he was going. Reinvigorated by the food, the
night's rest, and the cool air of these higher altitudes, he made good
time. By four o'clock of the afternoon he at last hit the broad, dusty
thoroughfare over which were hauled the supplies to Baker's upper works.
Along this he swung, hands in pockets, a whistle on his lips, the fine,
light dust rising behind his footsteps. The slight down grade released
his tired muscles from effort. He was enjoying himself.
Then he came suddenly around a corner plump against a horseman climbing
leisurely up the grade. Both stopped.
If Bob had entertained any lingering doubt as to Oldham's complicity in
his abduction, the expression on the land agent's face would have
removed it. For the first time in public Oldham's countenance expressed
a livelier emotion than that of cynical interest. His mouth fell open
and his eyeglasses dropped off. He stared at Bob as though that young
man had suddenly sprung into visibility from clear atmosphere. Bob
surveyed him grimly.
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