For two hours he had been exercising his talent
to the full, and merely paused now in search of some fresh inspiration,
holding in supreme and silent contempt the rather feeble imitations of
his less-gifted companion. It is also just to add that Mr. Moffat
personally formed an ideal accompaniment to his vivid narrations of
adventure, and he was fully aware of the fact that Miss Spencer's
appreciative eyes wandered frequently in his direction, noting his
tanned cheeks, his long silky mustache, the somewhat melancholy gleam
of his dark eyes--hiding beyond doubt some mystery of the past, the
nature of which was yet to be revealed. Mr. Moffat, always strong
along this line of feminine sympathy, felt newly inspired by these
evidences of interest in his tales, and by something in Miss Spencer's
face which bespoke admiration.
The fly in the ointment of this long day's ride, the third party, whose
undesirable presence and personal knowledge of Mr. Moffat's past career
rather seriously interfered with the latter's flights of imagination,
was William McNeil, foreman of the "Bar V" ranch over on Sinsiniwa
Creek.
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