THE BLACK FOX SKIN
swinging up the trail. He was of middle height, strongly built, with quick eyes and dark hair which, though cropped close, still betrayed its tendency to curl. He greeted November warmly; November was, I thought, even more slow-spoken than usual.
"Val," he said, after some talk, "have you still got that pinky necker Sally knitted for you?"
"Why d' you ask that?"
"Because I want to be put wise, Val."
"Yes, I've got her."
"Where?"
"Right here," and Black pulled the muffler out of his pocket.
"Huh!" said Joe.
There was a silence, rather a strained silence, between the two.
Then November continued. "Where was you last night?"
Val looked narrowly at Joe, Joe returned his stare.
"Got any reason fer asking?"
"Sure."
"Got any reason why I should tell you?"
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