I've got my reasons for what I'm
doing."
"Give me a good reason, then," begged the chairman. "Killing off your
friends for the sake of giving Harlan Thornton a liberal education
doesn't appeal to me."
"My real reason wouldn't, either--not just now," returned the Duke,
enigmatically.
At that moment half a dozen gaunt hounds raced around the corner of "The
Barracks." They leaped at Thornton playfully, daubing his crash suit
with their dusty paws. He seemed to recognize them. He cursed them and
kicked them away savagely.
CHAPTER III
DENNIS KAVANAGH'S GIRL
A rangy roan horse followed the dogs, galloping so wildly that when his
rider halted him his hoofs tore up the turf as he slid. A girl rode him.
She was mounted astride, and Presson had to look twice at her to make
sure she was a girl, for she wore knickerbockers and gaiters, and her
copper-red hair curled so crisply that it seemed as short as a boy's.
"Good-morning, Mr. Duke," she called. "Is Harlan down from the woods
yet?"
The old man turned to march off after a scornful glance at her.
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