“Why—why, somebody might know her; a woman alone!”
“She’s alone?”
“Why—yes, sir. I heard so.”
“Good looker?”
Without a word Carline handed the fellow a photograph. Doss made no sign. For two minutes he stared at that fine face.
“I bet she’s got an awful temper,” he half whispered. 140
“She’s quick,” Carline admitted, fervently.
“She’d just soon shoot a man as look at him,” Doss added, with a touch of asperity.
“Why—she––” Carline hesitated. He recalled a day in his own experience when she took his own shot gun from him, and stood a fury, flaming with anger.
“Yes, sir, she would,” Doss declared, with finality.