His mind had not yet awakened to that.
"You've got me pat! But who're you ?" said Folsom, huskily.
Wade kept silent.
"Who'n hell is thet man ?" yelled the rustler It was not a query to his comrades any more than to the four winds.

It was a furious questioning of a memory that stirred and haunted, and as well a passionate and fearful denial.
"His name's Wade," put in Belllounds, harshly.

"He's the friend of Wils Moore.

He's the hunter I told you about--worked for my father last winter." "Wade ?...

What?
_Wade!_ You never told me his name.