THREE:No, I barely remembered the rider had generously moved aside to let me go by. In pure sourness at the poverty of my dress and the perfection of his, I had avoided looking at him higher than his hundred-dollar boots. My feet were in uncolored cowhide, except the toes."Thank you," he said, and repeated the word as I wet my handkerchief and wiped the mire from his face; "thank you;--no, no,"--I was opening his shirt--"that's useless; get me where you can turn me over; you've hit me in the back, my lad."
THREE:[Pg 26]
THREE:CHAPTER XIX.
TWO:












