"I can't say that I quite understand--" began Stone.
"Why, it's the man who borrowed my pony!" exclaimed Louise.
"Correct, Miss. I--I come to thank you for lendin' me the cayuse that
time."
Walter Stone simply had to laugh. "Come up and rest after your trip up
the canon. Of course, you want to see Collie. He told me about your
finding the claim. Says you have given him a quarter-interest. I'm glad
you're doing well."
"I took a little run in to Los to get some new tires. The desert eats
'em up pretty fast. The Guzzuh, she cast her off hind shoe the other
day. I was scared she'd go lame. Bein' up this way, I thought I'd roll
up and see Collie."
"The 'Guzzuh'?" queried Stone. "You rode up, then?"
"Nope. The Guzzuh is me little old racin'-car. I christened her that
right after I got so as I could climb on to her without her pitchin' me
off. She's some bronc' she is."
Overland Red, despite his outward regeneration, was Overland Red still,
only a little more so. His overwhelming apparel accentuated his
peculiarities, his humorous gestures, his silent self-consciousness. But
there was something big, forceful, and wholesouled about the man,
something that attracted despite his incongruities.
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