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

"The Forfeit"

Git
me? I guess stealin' dollars out o' a citizen's pocket-book wouldn't
be a circumstance to a female of that nature. Say, I ain't got rid o'
the stink of it yet, though it happened four years ago."
The man's contempt and loathing were intense. He had offered the
reward, paid it, he had led the Vigilantes in the hanging. But these
things were simply part of the justice of man as he saw it, and rightly
administered.
The silent moments slipped by. Jeffrey Masters was sitting erect in
his chair. A marble coldness seemed to have settled itself upon his
keen face. Peters was waiting for that decision he desired. Dug
McFarlane, with more understanding, realized that something was wrong.
He, too, remained silent, however.
At last Jeff stirred. His gaze shifted. It turned half vaguely upon
the little man Peters. Then it seemed to drift unmeaningly toward the
rancher. A moment later it fell upon the papers he was so tightly
gripping. It was then that realization seemed to come upon him. He
reached out and handed the deeds to their owner.


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