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Cullum, Ridgwell, [pseud.], 1867-1943

"The Forfeit"


"It's a big yarn, an' needs time. But----" He paused, searching the
other's face.
"Go right on."
Jeff read through the pause. He waited, his lips firmly set.
Bud cleared his throat.
"I've got to say these things later if I don't say 'em now, Jeff, boy.
What I need to tell 'll make you sore, an' I don't guess it's the best
sort o' welcome making you sore at your home-comin'. It's the worst of
the yarn anyway, an' I kind o' feel it's best spitting out the worst
right away. We're up against a gang, a slick gang, organized right,
same as----"
He hesitated. But the younger man seemed to have no similar scruples.
"The gang my brother ran."
Bud nodded.
"Some of 'em got clear away--that time."
"And you figure after giving things time to get forgotten they've
gathered up a crowd of toughs and started in on this district?"
"It seems that way."
"How?"
"System," Bud declared sharply. "They're takin' a steady toll of us,
an' other folks in the district. We trailed 'em to the hills,
an'--lost 'em.


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