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Updated: May 5, 2025
The gray bristles on the unshaven face advertised him as well on into middle age. Wrayburn recognized the man as "Peg-Leg" Warren, one of the most troublesome nesters on the river. "He's around here somewhere." Dad turned to Canton. "Seen anything of the old man, Jim?" "Here he comes now." Webb rode up to the group. At sight of Warren and his companion the face of the drover set.
Breed went out to greet them and they sidled away as he advanced, stopping when he stopped and turning to face him. Cripp allowed him to draw close, his teeth bared in warning against a too effusive greeting, while Peg drew swiftly in behind the wolf. The peg-leg coyote stretched forth his nose for one deep sniff, then sprang ten feet away as Breed whirled.
"Well, what did you do when you found Peg-Leg make him a visit for a couple of days?" demanded the drover with sarcasm. "No, I don't know him well enough to visit only well enough to shoot at." "What's that?" asked Webb sharply. "Think I was goin' to let 'em plug Tim McGrath an' get away with it?" snapped Jim. "That's my business not yours. What did you do? Come clean."
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