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"And a high country," cried Lefever with flashing eyes, "a country where you can't see a damned thing in any direction for a hundred and fifty miles!" Though talking vigorously he was eating, without protest from Laramie, everything in sight. Kate could not help listening; Lefever's high spirits were contagious. "Jim," came next between mouthfuls.
Now, Bob has the old warrant for him: the question is, how to get him out." De Spain reflected a moment before replying: "John, I'd let him alone just for the present," he said at length. Lefever's eyes bulged: "Let Sassoon alone?" "He will keep for a while, anyway." "What do you mean?" "I don't want to stir things up too strong over that way just at the minute, John." "Why not?"
"Always nothing," repeated Lefever. "Better come up," suggested Laramie. "What are you doing?" Lefever's eyes expanded with cheer, but his voice choked with emotion: "Doing? Rusting!" "That doesn't sound much like 'life's fitful fever." John glared at his companion: "Life's fitful fever! Why, this is only a passing flash! How about it when you can't raise even a normal temperature? Fever?
The warm sun streaming through the windows of the private office of the division superintendent at Sleepy Cat, a railroad town lying almost within gunshot of the great continental divide, would easily have accounted for the cordial perspiration that illumined Lefever's forehead. Not that a perspiration is easily achieved in the high country; it isn't.
Then, of a sudden, she was robbed of her chance to answer. From down the trail came a yell like a shot. The clatter of hoofs rang out, and men on horses dashed from the entrance of the Gap toward them. De Spain could not make them out distinctly, but he knew Lefever's yell, and pointed. "There they are," he exclaimed hurriedly. "There is the whole posse. They are coming!"
John, if you want to win money, you must study the psychological." There was abundance of raillery in Lefever's retort: "That's why you are rich, Jeff?" "No, I am poor because I failed to study it. That is why I am at Sleepy Cat holding down a division. But now that you've brought Henry up here, we'll keep him." "What do you mean, keep him?" demanded Lefever, starting in protest.
In this attitude his chin lay on his soft, open collar and tie, his sunburnt lips were shut tight, and above and between his nervous brown eyes were two little, vertical furrows of perplexity and regret. He was looking at the dull-finish barrel of a new rifle, that lay across Lefever's lap.
This idiosyncrasy his companion, de Spain, had learned to tolerate. But Lefever's subdued whistle, which seemed meditative, always irritated de Spain more or less, despite his endeavor not to be irritated. It was like the low singing of a tea-kettle, which, however unobtrusive, indicates steam within.
I'm going to try to live the life of a small but dishonest rancher, Barb." "You ought to do well at that, eh?" "Why, yes and no. But I'm thinking, if I can't figure out the game, some of my neighbors can help me catch on what?" Barb's retort if he had one to Lefever's continued laugh, was cut off by Laramie's entrance with Kate.
The noise and confusion of the incident were considerable. Morgan was too old a fighter to look behind him at a critical moment. No man could say he had meant to draw when he stamped the card underfoot, but de Spain read it in his eye and knew that Lefever's sudden diversion at the rear had made him hesitate; the crisis passed like a flash.
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