20/55 Go to it." Well did Merton Gill know that here was his chance for a fine bit. The horse was strangely like Dexter upon whom he had so often rehearsed this bit. He was a bony, drooping, sad horse with a thin neck. "They're takin' ye frum me, old pal--takin' ye frum me. You an' me has seen some tough times an' I sort o' figgered we'd keep on together till the last--an' now they got me, old pal, takin' me far away where ye won't see me no more--" "Go to it, cowboy--take all the footage you want!" called Baird in a curiously choked voice. |