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"H'I don't mind tell' y', lad, that we was 'eaded for this point way back some'ers in the late nineties," said the engineer, "but there come a Nor'wester, an' the cap'in, 'e lost 'is 'ead and turned to run. We'd froze in for the winter, but we'd a seen things if we 'ad. We'd a seen 'um." They were struggling over some pressure ridges and neither had breath to spare for further talk just then.
"Yep," continued Racey, sitting back against the cantle, "she's a long creek that don't bend some'ers or other." And then the creek that was his flow of thought shot round a bend into the broad and sparkling reaches of a much pleasanter subject than the one that had to do with Harpes and Tweezys and Joneses.
Thar's no sweetheart, no mother, no sister for him. "'No one about Warwhoop knows this yere party much; more'n his name is Bent. He's captain with the Gov'nor's commission, an' comes from 'way-off yonder some'ers. An' so he sets thar, grim an' solid in his saddle, lookin' vague-like off at where the trees meets the sky, while the rest of us is goin' about permiscus, finishin' up our kissin'.
After dinner about two or three hours ago he lined us up an' said as 'ow he'd got word that you two fellers 'ad bin identified as bein' the chaps as pulled off that paymaster row, an' that he wanted you. Said he 'ad reason t' believe you was some'ers between Lost River an' the Stone, an' you was t' be captured without fail.
Also, ondoubted, he freights the meat off some'ers to his camp, which is why we don't notice no big bones layin' 'round loose. Then Enright scans the grass mighty scroopulous; an' shore enough! thar's plenty of pony tracks printed into the soil. 'That don't look so soopernacheral neither, says Enright, p'intin' to the hoof-prints. "'Them's shorely made by a flesh an' blood pony, says Peets.
"What's the matter with you now, Tonguey Murfree? Ain't this good enough for you? You'd blow if you was in a palace, sitting on a throne, I do believe. You'd find some trick about it, some'ers." Joyce met her laughing eyes and felt a hearty liking for her. "You and I aren't looking for tricks, are we?" she said. "Have you had a good time?"
"How come they allowed Dale to take up a six-forty?" he inquired. "They didn't," was the answer. "The section is made up of four claims, his'n, Jane's, Molly's, an' Mis' Dale's. But they're proved up now, and made over to him all regular. That's how come." "Haven't Silvertip Ransom and Long Oscar got a claim some'ers over yonder on Dale's land?" inquired Racey, looking toward the northerly ridge.
"It ain't no time, however, before we hears further of Silver Phil; that is, by way of roomer. It looks like a couple of big cow outfits some'ers in the San Simon country they're the 'Three-D' an' the 'K-in-a-box' brands takes first to stealin' each, other's cattle, an', final, goes to war. Each side retains bands of murderers an' proceeds buoyantly to lay for one another.
"It ain't much of a tale. It turns out like all sperit stories; when you approaches plumb close an' jumps sideways at 'em an' seizes 'em by the antlers, the soopernacheral elements sort o' bogs down. "It's over mebby fifty miles to the southeast of Wolfville, some'ers in the fringes of the Tres Hermanas that thar's a sign-camp of Enright's brand.
All I want you to do is go some'ers else peaceful. You ain't figuring on living here, are you?" Chuck uttered a short, hard laugh. McFluke's back was toward Racey. Peaches Austin was behind him, thirty feet away. Racey's left eyelid drooped. His head moved almost imperceptibly toward his horse. "I'm going now," said Chuck. "I'll go with you just to see you on yore way sort of," said Racey.
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