A new habit, with
Steve Packard.
"Gunman, are you?" she jeered. "I might have known it. Gunmen are all
cowards."
He sighed.
"You can be the most irritating young lady I ever met. And why? What
have I ever done to you--besides save you from drowning? Since we are
neighbors, why not be good friends? By the way, where do you carry
your gun?"
"It's different with a girl," she said bluntly. "There's some excuse
for her. With the kind that's filling the woods lately she's apt to
need it."
"And you wouldn't be afraid to use it?"
"I'm not here to chin with you all day," observed Terry coolly. "And
you haven't told me what you're doing on my land."
"Your land?" he demanded.
"On my side of the line, then."
He considered the question.
"I'm here to meet some one," he answered finally.
"I like your nerve! Arranging to meet your friends here! Steve
Packard, you are the--the--the----"
"Go on," he prompted. "You'll need a cuss-word now; any other finish
will sound flat."
"--the _Packardest_ Packard I ever heard of!" she concluded. "You and
your friend----"
"No more my friend than he is yours," he said, interrupting her. "An
individual named Blenham. And I'm not here so much to meet him
as--let's say to head him off."
Terry set it down that, since it was next to impossible at any time for
a Packard to speak the truth, he was just lying to her for the sake of
the devious exercise.
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