“I jest takes these with me for a spell,” he continued. “You’ll find them, if you look hard enough, along on th’ trail—also yore broncs.”
He backed toward the door.
“I’m layin’ fer th’ man that sticks his head out that door,” he warned.
“Stranger,” said Black Hank as he neared the door.
The little man paused.
“Might I ask yore name?”
“My name is Alfred,” replied the latter.
Black Hank looked chagrined.
“I’ve hearn tell of you,” he acknowledged.
The stranger’s eye ran over the room, and encountered that of the girl. He shrank into himself and blushed.