Now let us take this little
deck of common playing-cards---"
The monologist, suiting the action to the word, conjured a deck of
cards from somewhere, and extended them to Blaze. "Select one; any
one---"
"Hell!" snorted Jones, slipping into his coat.
"You are a skeptic! Very well. I convince nobody against his will.
But wait! You have a strong face. Stand where you are." Extracting
from another pocket a tiny pair of scissors and a sheet of carbon
paper, Mr. Strange, with the undivided attention of the audience
upon him, began to cut Blaze's silhouette. He was extraordinarily
adept, and despite his subject's restlessness he completed the
likeness in a few moments; then, fixing it upon a plain white
cardboard, he presented it with a flourish.
Blaze accepted the thing and plunged for the open air.
IX
A SCOUTING TRIP
"What ails you?" Law inquired as he and Blaze rolled away in the
buckboard.
"Serves me right for leaving my six-shooter at home," panted the
rancher. "Well, I might have known they'd find me some day."
"'They'? Who?"
"That hombre and his wife--the woman with the mustache. They swore
they'd get me, and it looks like they will, for I daresn't raise
my hand to protect myself.
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