"
It is true that neither had mentioned the matter since the day of Ford's
arrival at the ranch; men do not, as a rule, harp upon the deeper issues
within their lives. For that month, it had been as though the subject
of intemperance concerned them as little as the political unrest of a
hot-tempered people beyond the equator. They had argued the matter to a
more or less satisfactory conclusion, and had let it rest there.
Ford had ridden with him a part of the way, and when they came to a
certain fork in the trail, he had sent a whimsically solemn message to
Buddy, had pulled the collar of his coat closer together under his chin,
and had faced the wind with a clean conscience, and with bowed head and
hat pulled low over his brows. There were at least three perfectly valid
reasons why Ford should ride into town that day. He wanted heavier socks
and a new pair of gloves; he was almost out of tobacco, and wanted to
see if he could "pick up" another man so that the hours of
night-guarding might not fall so heavily upon the crew. Ford had been
standing the last guard himself, for the last week, to relieve the
burden a little, and Mason had been urgent on the subject of another
man--or two, he suggested, would be better.
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