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n, watching her mutinous face, "if you did, Tex would have a posse out hunting for you in no time. Sooner or later they'd find this place, and you know what that would mean. I'm feeling better every minute--honest. By to-morrow I'll be able to hobble around and look after myself fine." His logic was irresistible, and for a time she sat silent, torn by a conflict of emotions. Then all at once her face brightened. "I've got it!" she cried. "Why can't I send Bud out? He's to be trusted surely?" Buck's eyes lit up in a way that brought to the girl a curious, jealous pang. "Bud? Sure, he's all right. That's one fine idea. You'll have to be careful Lynch doesn't know where he's going, though." "I'll manage that all right." Reluctant to go, yet feeling that she ought to make haste, the girl got out some crackers and placed them, with a pail of water, within his reach. Then she listened while Stratton told her of a short cut out to the middle pasture. "I understand," she nodded. "You'll promise to be careful, won't you? Bud ought to be here in a couple of hours, though he may be delayed a little longer. You'd better not try and move until he comes." "I won't," Buck answered. "I'm too darn comfortable." "Well, good-by, then," she said briefly, moving over to her horse. "Good-by; and--thank you a thousand times!" She made no answer, but a faint, enigmatic smile quivered for an instant on her lips as she turned the stirrup and swung herself into the saddle. When Freckles had reached a little distance, she glanced back and waved her hand. From where he lay Stratton could see almost the whole length of the little canyon, and as long as the slight figure on the big gray horse remained in sight, his eyes followed her intently, a sort of wistful hunger in their depths. But when she disappeared, the man's head fell back limply on the blankets and his eyes closed. CHAPTER XXIII WHERE THE WHEEL TRACKS LED Bud Jessup removed a battered stew-pan from the fire and set it aside to cool a little. "Well, by this time I reckon friend Tex is all worked up over what's become of me," he remarked in a tone of satisfaction, deftly shifting the coffee-pot to a bed of deeper coals. "He's sure tried often enough to get rid of me, but I don't guess he quite relishes my droppin' out of sight like this." Buck Stratton, his back resting comfortably against a rock a little way from the fire, nodded absently. "Y
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