Still I had seen enough. Like a bloodhound, I had a scent. "Thet's
funny, Russ, seein' as you drift with the gang Steele's bound to fight,"
remarked Hoden.
"Sure. I'm a sport. If I can't gamble with gentlemen I'll gamble with
rustlers."
Again he gave a slight start, and this time he hid his eyes.
"Wal, Russ, I've heard you was slick," he said.
"You tumble, Jim. I'm a little better on the draw."
"On the draw? With cards, an' gun, too, eh?"
"Now, Jim, that last follows natural. I haven't had much chance to show
how good I am on the draw with a gun. But that'll come soon."
"Reckon thet talk's a little air," said Hoden with his dry laugh. "Same
as you leanin' a little on the Ranger's side of the fence."
"But, Jim, wasn't he game? What'd you think of that stand? Bluffed the
whole gang! The way he called Sampson--why, it was great! The justice of
that call doesn't bother me. It was Steele's nerve that got me. That'd
warm any man's blood."
There was a little red in Hoden's pale cheeks and I saw him swallow
hard. I had struck deep again.
"Say, don't you work for Sampson?" he queried.
"Me? I _guess_ not. I'm Miss Sampson's man. He and Wright have tried to
fire me many a time.
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