6/16 "You grow rather good-looking, Kid, when you get hot, but you go at things half-cocked, and you 've got to get over it. That's the whole trouble--you 've never been trained, and I would n't make much of a trainer for a high-strung filly like you. Ever remember your mother ?" "Mighty little; reckon she must have died when I was about five years old. That's her picture." Hampton took in his hand the old-fashioned locket she held out toward him, the long chain still clasped about her throat, and pried open the stiff catch with his knife blade. She bent down to fasten her loosened shoe, and when her eyes were uplifted again his gaze was riveted upon the face in the picture. |