AC dBooks

He had gathered together a few head of cattle, some
chickens, two fairly respectable horses, and enough timber to build a
comfortable cabin. He lived alone, a gentle old hermit whose hand was
clean to every man, and whose heart was tender to all living things
despite many hard years in desert and range among men who dispensed
such law as there was with a quick forefinger and an uncompromising
eye. His gray hairs were honorable in that he had known no wastrel
years. Nature had shaped him to a great, rugged being fitted for the
simplicity of mountain life and toil. He had no argument with God and
no petty dispute with man. What he found to do he did heartily. The
horse-trader, camped near Concho, came to realize this.
Old man Annersley was in need of a horse. One of his team had died
that winter. So he unhooked the pole from the buckboard, rigged a pair
of shafts, and drove to Concho, where he heard of the trader and
finally located that worthy drinking at Tony's Place. Young Pete, as
usual, was in camp looking after the stock. The trader accompanied
Annersley to the camp.


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