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Later, when Lorry heard that the writer was to bring his daughter into the high country, he expressed himself to Shoop's stenographer briefly: "Oh, hell!" Yet the expletive was not offensive, spoken gently and merely emphasizing Lorry's attitude toward things feminine.
We'll build a road plumb through to the old Apache Trail and ketch them tourists goin' into Phoenix." "You see," said Dorothy, turning to her father, "I know something about politics. I read the local papers. Mr. Shoop's name is in every one of them. I read that article about the Sterling strike. I have been wondering "
And so I give Lusk another chanct." Dorothy stepped to Shoop's chair, and, stooping quickly, kissed his cheek. Bondsman, not to be outdone, leaped jealously into Bud's lap and licked the supervisor's face. Shoop spluttered, and thrust Bondsman down. "Things is comin' too fast!" he cried, wiping his face.
"You wait!" said the grinning foreman. "You watch him. Don't pay no 'tention to me." Corliss smiled. Shoop's many and devious methods of estimating character had their humorous angles. The rancher appreciated a joke quite as much as did any of his employees, but usually as a spectator and not a participant.
They arrived in Criswell that evening, and were directed to the marshal's house, where Ramon met them. "How's Jim?" was Shoop's immediate query. "The Señor Jim is like one who sleeps," said Ramon. Mrs. Adams grasped Shoop's arm. "He wakens only when the doctor is come. He has spoken your name, señora."
I got somethin' else to do besides set on a cracker barrel and swap lies with my friends." "You can stay or you can go, but the law is the law " "And a goat is a goat. All right, hombre, I'll stay." "As I was sayin'," continued the marshal, ignoring the deepening color of Shoop's face, "you can stay. You're too durned fat to move around safe, anyhow. You might bust." Shoop smiled.
Shoop's gun jumped from its holster and covered the sheep-man. "If one of your lousy herders done this, he'll graze clost to hell to-night with the rest of your dam' sheep!" he cried. "Easy, Bud!" cautioned Wingle. "The boss ain't passed over yet. Bill, you help Sinker here get the boss back home. The rest of you boys hit the trail for the Blue. Fadeaway is like to be up in that country."
Bud Shoop's gun was tucked in the waistband of his pants. "Go!" said the sheepman. High Chin's hand flashed to his hip. His gun jumped and spoke. Shoop's wrist turned. Both bottles were shattered on the instant. A tie was declared. The men were placed with their backs toward the targets two empty bottles. The sheepman faced them, with his hands behind his back.
But when night came he invariably trotted over to Shoop's cabin and slept on the veranda. Dorothy wondered why he would not sleep at their camp. "He's very friendly," she told her father. "He will play and chase sticks and growl, and pretend to bite when I tickle him, but he does it all with a kind of mental reservation.
Shoop's intensity, his real love for music, was a revelation. Lorry felt like smiling, yet he did not smile. Bud Shoop could not play, but his personality forced its own recognition, even through the absurd medium of an untutored performance on that weird upright piano. Lorry began to realize that there was something more to Bud Shoop than mere bulk. Bud swung round, puffing.
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