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"Warfield, by !" Al blurted in his outraged astonishment. "Trailing me with a bunch, are yuh? I knew you'd double-cross your own father but I never thought you had it in you to do it in the open. Damn yuh, what d'yuh want that you expect to get?" Warfield stared at him, slack-jawed.
Even through the murk of the gathering night the clenched hands and swelling neck cords were visible to that sharp eye. "Haow d'yuh like to be Matlock?" A match snapped sharply as some inveterate smoker kindled his cigarette. A man sat bolt upright in his blankets and Hungry swore angrily. The camp sank to rest but not exactly to sleep, as the occasional clearing of a throat evinced.
That was Phoebe Hart, saying the same thing over and over with a queer, moaning inflection in her voice. "D'yuh KILL him?" Gene shouted excitedly, as he ran up to the spot. "Yes." Good Indian glanced once more at the heap before him. "And I'm liable to kill a few more before I'm through with the deal."
"That fire's mighty close, an' comin' on the jump," Piegan remarked, with an upward glance. "I wish she'd let up long enough for us t' finish this job. That smoke's as good as they want, once it begins t' settle in the gorge. What in thunder d'yuh s'pose Mac's doin' all this time. He ought t' show pretty quick, now." He showed, as Piegan put it, very shortly.
It sure won't be a picnic, but one thing is certain; we'll either get those cattle or Matlock will have to rustle a new partner." Red shifted his cud and spat unerringly on the crest of a loco weed in the trail. "D'yuh 'spose we'll meet up with Matlock there? Reckon 'tain't likely though."
Tige obeying sullenly, to the extent that he crouched where he was and still growled; his master rested his elbows on his great, bony knees, sucked at a short-stemmed clay pipe and waited developments. "How d'yuh do?" Dade, holding Surry as close to the belligerent Tige as was wise, tried to make his greeting as neutral as the attitude of the other. "Tol'ble, thank yuh, how's y'self?
We're just two old folks looking for shelter for the night," wavered Father, with spurious coolness. "Huh?" growled a thick, greasy voice. "Where d'yuh belong?" "Everywhere. We're tramping to San Francisco." As he said it Father stood uneasy, looking into the penetrating eye of an electric torch which the man had flashed on him.
"Aw, is dat so!... For de love of Mike, d'yuh mean to tell me Lizzie is talking back? Whadda yuh know about dat! Whadda yuh know about dat! You'll get sick on us here, foist t'ing we know. Where was yuh hoited?" Petey McGuff's smile was absolutely friendly.
Val shifted in the saddle and stared down at him. "And what might your name be?" he asked softly. "What d'yuh think it is? Hitler? I'm Ralestone, the owner of this place. On your way, kid, on your way." "So? Well, good morning, cousin." Val tightened rein. The invader eyed him cautiously. "What d'yuh mean cousin?" "I happen to be a Ralestone also," the boy answered grimly. "Huh?
The bunch had stopped and tarried there a few minutes, as the jumbled hoof-marks bore witness, and the track of two horses led away toward Ten Mile Spring. "Darn it all!" Piegan grumbled. "Now, what d'yuh reckon's the meanin' uh that? Them two has lit straight for where Baker's layout was camped this mornin'. What for? Are they pullin' out uh the country with the coin?
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