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And Wingle, fat, bald, and deliberate, chuckled as he dug among his belongings and brought forth the coveted riding apparel. "Them chaps has set on some good hosses, if I do say it," he remarked. "Take 'em and keep your nine bucks for life insurance. You'll need it." Sundown grinned like a boy. "Nope. A bargain's a bargain. Here's the money.
Without making the contents of the note known, he told the men that they would join Bud Shoop and his outfit at the Knoll and push the herd north. Later he took Wingle aside and told him that he could stay and look after the rancho. The indignant Hi rolled down his sleeves, spat, and glared at Corliss. "I quit," he snapped. "You can hire a new cook." Despite his preoccupation Corliss smiled.
Old Spike Crooch, who dwelt far up at the headwaters of Little Tribulation, where the "trails jest wiggle an' wingle about," and who bore the repute of a master violinist, had vowed that he "meant ter fiddle at one more shin-dig afore he laid him down an' died" and he had journeyed the long way to carry out his pledge.
"Well, we'll visit you regular," shouted a puncher. "Better come over to the house and talk things over," said Corliss. "I don't want trouble with you but my boys do." Loring hesitated. One of his men, spurring up, whispered to him. Wingle, keenly alert, restrained a cowboy who was edging forward. "Don't start nothin'," he said. "If she's goin' to start, she'll start herself."
Wingle, kneeling, examined the cowboy's six-gun. Corliss, in a burst of wrath, turned on Sundown. "Damn you, open your mouth. What do you know about this?" Sundown bit his nails and glowered at Corliss. "God A'mighty sent me " he began. With a swift gesture Corliss interrupted. "You're working for the Concho. Was he dead when you found him?"
Mebby you could buy a fust-class cook-book with it and learn somethin'." "Learn somethin'! Why, you long-geared, double-jointed, glass-eyed, hay-topped, star-smellin' st-st-steeple, you! Get out o' this afore I break my neck tryin' to see your face! Set down so I can look you in the eye!" And Wingle waved his stout arms and glowered in mock anger. Sundown laid the money on the table.
"If you're tryin' to hang this onto any of my herders, you're ridin' on the wrong side of the river. I reckon you won't have to look far for the gun that got him." And Loring gestured toward the body. Hi Wingle stooped and pulled Fadeaway's gun from its holster. He spun the cylinder, swung it out, and invited general inspection. "Fade never had a chance," he said, lowering the gun.
Corliss and Wingle turned from looking at Sundown and gazed at each other. "If that's right " And the rancher hesitated. "I reckon it's right," said Wingle. And he stooped and together they lifted the body and laid it across the cowboy's horse. Sundown watched them with burning eyes. "We'll ride back home," said Corliss, motioning to him. "Home? Ain't you goin' to do nothin'?"
Chance followed him, evidently quite uninterested in the activities outside. Would this queer, ungainly man-thing saddle a horse and ride with the others, or would he now depart on foot, taking the trail to Antelope? Chance knew quite as well as did the men that something unusual was in the air. Hi Wingle, the cook, had returned unexpectedly that night.
Chance had listened gravely while his master had told Bud Shoop that "the outfit" would move over to Bald Knoll in the morning. Then the dog had barked and capered about, anticipating a break in the monotony of ranch-life. Sundown hurried to the cook-room. Chance at his heels. Hi Wingle was already installed in his old quarters, but he greeted Sundown heartily, and set him to work helping.
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