Clavering wheeled his horse. “The odds are with you, Larry,” he said. “You have made a big blunder, but I guess you know your own business best.”
He nodded, including the fräulein, with an easy insolence that yet became him, touched the horse with his heel, and in another moment he and his cow-boys were swinging at a gallop across the prairie. Then, as they dipped behind a rise, those who were left glanced at one another. Breckenridge was very pale, and one of his hands was bleeding where Clavering’s spur had torn it.
“It seems that we have made a beginning,” he said hoarsely. “It’s first blood to them, but this will take a lot of forgetting, and the rest may be different.”
Grant made no answer, but turned and looked at Muller, who stood very straight and square, with a curious brightness in his eyes.
“Are you going on with the contract? There is the girl to consider,” said Grant.
“COME DOWN!”—Page 47.
“Ja,” said the Teuton. “I was in der Vosges, and der girl is also Fräulein Muller.”