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"That'd make twenty-eight pair, wouldn't it?" "Just about just about, pardner. And two times twenty-eight is fifty-six, ain't it?" Blink Keddie promptly agreed. "Agreed, eh? Then I'll ask ye kindly for fifty-six dollars, stranger." Keddie thoughtfully began rolling a cigarette. "If I had fifty-six dollars, ol'-timer," he said, "I wouldn't converse with the likes o' you." The gunman grinned.
Shortly after they became aware of this a machine was discovered coming toward them from the distant tents. Then another put in an appearance, following the first. Jo now heard the cough of motors behind her, and, looking back, saw two trucks. The first machine coming from the camps swung from the road when it neared Blink Keddie and waited, panting, until the outfit had passed it.
"You better beat it for Keddie while you can get there!" He slammed the door in their startled faces and laid the pointer on its pivot and swung it toward the smoke. The smoke was curling up already in an ugly yellowish brown cloud, spreading in long leaps before the wind. Jack's hand shook when he reached for the telephone to report the fire.
"It's eight minutes of twelve, Hiram," she announced. "I'll roll out my biscuit dough. Can you yell? If so, shout ahead to Blink Keddie and call a halt for noon." Hiram rose to his six feet one and cupped his great hands about his mouth. The mellow call that he sent out had rung through miles of Mendocino forest, and now caused every skinner in the line to turn and look back.
"Through revolver smoke and the rain pouring and next instant his face didn't look like anything much. That was a wicked old pine knot." "I'll say she was, boy! But about the razor?" Keddie kept on. Again Hiram could not answer. "Why, that's easy!" laughed Heine Schultz. "They was gonta give Jo a shave!" Jo and Hiram walked together behind the rest and talked as the party returned to the wagons.
And I'll bet my month's wages against a dollar of Mr. Drummond's money that he'll be begging for teams to haul him out. Then, of course, the price ought to be about fifty-six dollars a haul, regardless of distance, hadn't it?" "Good boy!" cried Keddie. "Listen to our Gentle Wild Cat pur! He's right, too, I'll say.
Half an hour afterward Hiram swung himself into Jo's big California saddle, and then leaned over and spoke to Blink Keddie and Heine Schultz, busy at harnessing the teams. "I don't know when I'll be back, boys," he said. "But remember what I told you: Don't let Jo out of your sight in the pass nor anywhere else, for that matter and keep your guns handy all the time."
From Oregon now came "Blink" Keddie, who had driven teams for Pickhandle Modock since long before the old railroader had settled at Palada. Tom Gulick came from Utah, where he had been working on a cattle ranch. Heine Schultz and Jim McAllen came from remote regions in the northern lumber woods. But of Ed Hopkins, the prince of mule skinners, and Harry Powell the girl could get no trace.
Ain't any trains, and there won't be. There's four slides between here and Keddie Lord knows how many there is from there on down. Wires are all down, so they can't get any word. Nothing moving the other, way, either. It's the rain coming first, that softened things up, and then the weight of the snow pulled things loose. Take your time about your breakfast," he grinned.
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