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Updated: April 30, 2025
He had dismounted from his pony at the cattle-buyer's camp, attracted by the spectacle of that enormous herd destined to pass through the country where he and his companions held sway, and he had hung about the place to see what he could see.
"A pretty scraggly crew, Mr. Pike," Miss West remarked. "The worst ever," he growled, "and I've seen some pretty bad ones. We're teachin' them the ropes just now most of 'em." "They look starved," I commented. "They are, they almost always are," Miss West answered, and her eyes roved over them in the same appraising, cattle-buyer's fashion I had marked in Mr. Pike.
Pike that the men seemed thinner and weaker than when they came on board, and he delayed replying for a moment while he stared down at them with that cattle-buyer's eye of his. "Sure they are," he said disgustedly. "A weak breed, that's what they are nothing to build on, no stamina. The least thing drags them down.
Now when it came on to the spot which they had selected, the two trios galloped up to do the killing and found John Slaughter leveling a double-barreled shotgun while his wife held the reins. One glimpse of that weapon at the cattle-buyer's shoulder was enough; they did not wait for him to pull the trigger but fled. John Slaughter was wearying of this sort of thing.
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