19/52 It ain't--it ain't--" "Yes, it is, Cap," interrupted Wade. "It's the old boy that spoiled your handsome mug--long ago." "_Hell-Bent Wade!_" gasped Folsom, in terrible accents. An ashen paleness crept into his face. Instinctively his right hand jerked toward his gun; then, as in his former motion, froze in the very act. |