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The Heart of the Range by William Patterson White
page 55 of 413 (13%)
been inspired by Racey surreptitiously and severely kicking it on
the fetlock. This he had done that Miss Dale's thoughts might be
temporarily diverted from her father. Anything to keep her from
shooing him away as she so plainly wished to do.

Racey began to assist the now-crumpling Mr. Dale toward the house.
"What's this about Luke Tweezy?" prodded Racey. "Did you see him
to-day?"

"Shore I seen him to-day," burbled the drunken one. "He left me at
McFluke's after buyin' me the bottle and asked me to stay there till
he got back. But I got tired waitin'. So I come along. I--hic--come
along."

Limply the man's whole weight sagged down against Racey's supporting
arm, and he began to snore.

"Shucks," muttered Racey, then stooping he picked up the limp body in
his arms and carried it to the house.

"He's asleep," he called to Miss Dale. "Where'll I put him?"

"I'll show you," she said, with a break in her voice.

She hastily tied the now-quiet pony to a young cottonwood growing at
the corner of the house and preceded Racey into the kitchen.

"Here," she said, her eyes meeting his a fleeting instant as she threw
open a door giving into an inner room. "On the bed."

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