But when he spoke his voice was the same,
and his features were composed.
"This is your--dad?"
"Yes. I call him a peach." "It's a fine head--sure," murmured Jeff.
Bud bent over him, eager to sing the praises of his sire. But, for the
first time since man and boy had met, Jeff's face assumed a hard,
professional look. Bud eyed him interrogatively.
"Does your leg hurt any?"
"N-n-o."
"I'll fetch some more hot water, if you say so."
"I'm feelin' a heap easier--in my leg."
He put the two photographs into the case, closed it, and handed it to
Bud with a sigh.
"Maybe you will meet Sadie some day," said Bud, taking the case.
"Maybe," Jeff replied, with an indifference which made the boy stare.
Jeff was gazing across the foothills with a queer steely glint in his
blue eyes. Bud ran into the house.
Instantly, Jeff was alert. He pulled a tattered handbill from his
pocket, smoothed it out, and read it with darkening brows. The bill
offered a handsome reward for any information which would lead to the
arrest of one Sillett, a defaulting assistant-cashier of a Santa
Barbara bank. Sillett and his _daughter_ had disappeared in a
springboard, drawn by a buckskin horse, and were supposed to have
travelled south, in the hope of crossing the border into Mexico.
Pages:
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387