"Can't call him to mind, Buck. It might be Huston for size, but he
hasn't got a sorrel in his string, an' then he's took on too much fat
lately to be mistook for you. Go on inside. You'll want to eat, I
guess. I'll put up the lady's horse an' be with you in two shakes."
"Thanks, John. But I had supper back at Harte's. Can you let me have a
horse in the morning? I'll send him back by one of the boys."
"Sure. Take the big roan. An' you don't have to send him back, either.
I'm ridin' that way myself tomorrow, an' I'll drop by an' get him."
"Which way are you ridin'?"
"To the Bar X. I got word last week three or four of my steers was over
there. I want to see about 'em. Before," he added drily, "they get any
closer to Dead Man's."
Thornton's nod indicated that he understood. And then, suddenly, he
said,
"If you're going that way you can see Miss Waverly through, can't you?
She's going to the Corners."
Smith whistled softly.
"Now what the devil is the like of her goin' to that town for?" he
demanded.
"I don't know the answer. But she's going there." And as partial
explanation, he added, "She's Henry Pollard's niece."
For a moment Smith pondered the information in silence. Then his only
reference to it was a short spoken, "Well, she don't look it! Anyway,
that's her look-out, an' I'll see her within half a dozen miles of the
border.
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