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"They howl like a mess uh coyotes," Lite observed in justification of the shot, "and I'm getting sick of hearing 'em." "Mama!" Weary, exclaimed annoyedly, "that darn fence is on an up-slope, so it's going to be next to impossible to jump it! I guess here's where we do about an eight-hundred-foot scene of Indian Warfare, or Fighting For Their Lives. How yuh feel, Cadwalloper?" "Me?"
"He don't act, to me, like he was putting up a josh," Weary stated uneasily, after a minute of silence. "Run up to the house and find out, Cadwalloper. The Old Man oh, good Lord!" The tan on Weary's face took a lighter tinge. "Scoot it won't take but a minute to find out for sure. Go on, Pink."
They're coming in a special car, and we've got to rig up an outfit to meet him. The Little Doctor tells just how she wants things fixed. I thought maybe it was important it come special delivery," Pink added naively, "so I just played it was mine and read it." "That's all right, Cadwalloper," Weary assured him while he read hastily the letter.
The two had ridden ten paces past him when Pink pulled up suddenly. "I'm going to get off and lick that son-of-a-gun myself, just for luck," he stated dispassionately. "I'm going to lick 'em both," he revised while he dismounted. "Oh, come on, Cadwalloper," Weary dissuaded. "You'll likely have all the excitement you need, without that." "Here, you hold this fool cayuse. No."
"I can't fight a man that won't hit back," Weary protested. "You couldn't either, Cadwalloper. You'd have done just what I did; you'd have let him go." "He will hit back, all right enough," Pink retorted passionately. "He'll do it when you ain't looking, though. He " "I know it," Weary sighed. "I'm kinda sorry, now, I slapped him. He'll hit back but he won't hit me; he'll aim at the outfit.
"Say, Cadwalloper, you took a few lessons in sheepherding, a couple of years ago, when you was stuck on that girl remember? Whistle 'em up here and set 'en to work." "You go to the devil," Pink's curved hips replied amiably to his boss. "I've got loss-uh-memory on the sheep business." Whereat Weary grinned and said no more about it.
Others there were who seemed rather inclined to give Weary good advice while they pulled on their boots and sought for their gloves and rolled early-morning cigarettes, and otherwise prepared themselves for what Fate might have waiting for then outside the door. "Are you sure they're in the coulee, Cadwalloper?" Weary asked, during a brief lull. "They could be up on the hill "
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