CHAPTER XX

WHICH CONCERNS ITSELF WITH KNOTS AND SHADOWS “How,” murmured Dallas faintly and making feeble effort to sit up, “how is . . . the horse, George?” Lord Withymore propped the rolling head with ready shoulder and swore softly. “Mr. Dallas, sir, th’ oss ain’t took no ’arm, only shook up a bit, so don’t worry, sir.” “That . . . you, Ben?” “Yessir.” “How are you, Keith, old fellow?” “Fine, George . . .” the gasping voice whispered, “but . . . Josepha, don’t . . . let her know . . . that I . . .” the faint words ended in …