"This conversation sounds a whole lot like a monologue up to
date," he continued. "Now, maybe y'u don't know y'u have the
honor of entertaining the King of the Bighorn." The man's brown
hand brushed the mask from his eyes and he bowed with mocking
deference. "Miss Messiter, allow me to introduce myself
again--Ned Bannister, train robber, rustler, kidnapper and
general bad man. But I ain't told y'u the worst yet. I'm cousin
to a sheepherder' and that's the lowest thing that walks."
He limped forward a few steps and sat down. "Thank you, I believe
I will stay a while since y'u both ask me so urgent. It isn't
often I meet with a welcome so hearty and straight from the
heart."
It was not hard to see how the likeness between them contributed
to the mistake that had been current concerning them. Side by
side, no man could have mistaken one for the other. The color of
their eyes, the shade of hair, even the cut of their features,
were different. But beneath all distinctions in detail ran a
family resemblance not to be denied. This man looked like his
cousin, the sheepman, as the latter might have done if all his
life he had given a free rein to evil passions.
The height, the build, the elastic tread of each, made further
contributions to this effect of similarity.
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