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. The one in front
looks a lot shorter than the other one... and he's defin-
itely carrying a hoopak. OK, that's Woodrow and Burr-
foot. Do you suppose that's another wooden animal
they're riding?" Gisella laughed girlishly at her own joke.
Denzil ignored her question, saying only, "We'll wait
for them here."
"Want to make the time pass more quickly?" Grinning,
Gisella slid her hand across Denzil's leg and patted his
rump.
Denzil lowered himself to his saddle. Gisella snatched
her hand away to keep it from being pinned beneath him.
"No," he replied. With a flick of the reins, he directed his
horse forward to a spot where he could edge off the trail
behind an outcropping.
Pouting slightly, Gisella rode up to him. "What's the
matter with you? You've been acting strangely all morn-
ing."
"Get off the road," ordered Denzil. "Back here, behind
me." He unslung his crossbow and cocked it, then drew a
bolt from a pouch attached to his saddle. "Keep your
mouth shut and stay out of the way."
Gisella's arms dropped to her lap and her petulance
disappeared, replaced by indignation. "When did I enlist
in your army? And what have you got in mind here, any-
way? Those are the people we came up here to rescue.
Start waving that shooter around cocked and loaded --
and you'll end up hurting somebody."
"Hurting people is what I do best!" he snarled. "Now
get behind me unless you want to be the one hurt."
"Well, isn't this typical?" fumed Gisella. "Give a guy a
tumble and right away he thinks he's been knighted
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