There are also men of his type, who for a time, at
least, appear immune from the disasters which follow the one rash
venture the prudent make, and it was half in frolic and half in malice
he rode to Silverdale dressed as a prairie farmer in the light of day,
and forgot that their occupation sets a stamp he had never worn upon
the tillers of the soil. The same spirit induced him to imitate one or
two of Winston's gestures for the benefit of his cook, and afterwards
wait for a police trooper, who apparently desired to overtake him when
he had just left the homestead.
He pulled his horse up when the other man shouted to him, and trusting
in the wide hat that hid most of his face, smiled out of half-closed
eyes when he handed a packet.
"You have saved me a ride, Mr. Courthorne. I heard you were at the
bridge," the trooper said. "If you'll sign for those documents I
needn't keep you."
He brought out a pencil, and Courthorne scribbled on the paper handed
him. He was quite aware that there was a risk attached to this, but if
Winston had any communications with the police, it appeared advisable
to discover what they were about. Then he laughed, as riding on again
he opened the packet.
"Agricultural Bureau documents," he said. "This lot to be returned
filled in! Well, if I can remember, I'll give them to Winston."
As it happened, he did not remember, but he made a worse mistake just
before his departure from the railroad settlement.
Pages:
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265