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Show "How come you were over here in the woods, and not traveling the main road to Crooked River," Port asked. "Ma tole me to stay off the roads. The Destroying Angel is on the loose." The Destroying Angel?" "The Mormon that shot Mr. Boggs." "You mean Porter Rockwell." "That's him. A mean son-ov-a-bitch." "Do you know what he looks like?" Port asked. "Never seen him. But they say he has eyes like the devil, and is muscled up like a bull. Carries two pistols and a Bowie knife. Rides a big stallion." "Good th.ag the two of us are together," Port said, totally enjoying enjoy-ing the conversation. "Better chance he'd leave us alone if he saw us." "As long as we stay off the main road, don't think well run into him," Frank said. "Good." Port kept waiting for Frank to want to stop and rest, but the big fellow kept trudginTT lessly taking hifRftH mg up the miles. Pranl Ne8, man, simple but hTnn nUl thoroughly enjoyinfeN his legs were oe'S sleep. Compared "? If confinement of jail thi he A dise. J ,thlsa8pV Frank's pace didn't ,l ey came to a long Mi J0 feel. the S1 straining. Frank's Ihin UV ting wet with sweat WasP, "If you want to stoo nn,n 'I you along," P0rt saidUe i toh -Frank would be qui V', Pick up on the CHnou!' r even better i continued. "StoD at H, P fi and I'll borlw haen!Itc!l ft spurs." Frank laughed h.i "Maybe a saddlf contmued.-Hell.witham'Jl you, who needsahorseS' Frank was laughing sohardL 'l; to stop and catch his breath T,5 (To be continual. |