And to let that sea subside he wandered back to the
eating room and found the tenderfoot finishing his
coffee. The latter kept an eye of frank suspicion
upon him. So the silence held for a brooding moment,
until Bard asked: “D’you know the
way to the ranch of William Drew?”
It was a puzzler to Nash. Was not that his job,
to go out and bring the man to Drew’s place?
Here he was already on the way. He remembered
just in time that the manner of bringing was decidedly
qualified.
He said aloud: “The way? Sure; I work
on Drew’s place.”
“Really!”
“Yep; foreman.”
“You don’t happen to be going back that
way to-night?”
“Not all the way; part of it.”
“Mind if I went along?”
“Nobody to keep you from it,” said the
cowpuncher without enthusiasm.
“By the way, what sort of a man is Drew?”
“Don’t you know him?”
“No. The reason I want to see him is because
I want to get the right to do some—er—fishing
and hunting on a place of his on the other side of
the range.”
“The place with the old house on it; the place
Logan is?”
“Exactly. Also I wish to see Logan again.
I’ve got several little things I’d like
to have him explain.”
“H-m!” grunted Nash without apparent interest.
“And Drew?”
“He’s a big feller; big and grey.”
“Ah-h-h,” said the other, and drew in
his breath, as though he were drinking.
It seemed to Nash that he had never seen such an unpleasant
smile.
“You’ll get what you want out of Drew.
He’s generous.”
“I hope so,” nodded the other, with far-off
eyes. “I’ve got a lot to ask of him.”
BUTCH RETURNS
He reminded Nash of some big puma cub warming itself
at a hearth like a common tabby cat, a tame puma thrusting
out its claws and turning its yellow eyes up to its
owner—tame, but with infinite possibilities
of danger. For the information which Nash had
given seemed to remove all his distrust of the moment
before and he became instantly genial, pleasant.
In fact, he voiced this sentiment with a disarming
frankness immediately.
“Perhaps I’ve seemed to be carrying a
chip on my shoulder, Mr. Nash. You see, I’m
not long in the West, and the people I’ve met
seem to be ready to fight first and ask questions
afterward. So I’ve caught the habit, I
suppose.”
“Which a habit like that ain’t uncommon.
The graveyards are full of fellers that had that habit
and they’re going to be fuller still of the
same kind.”
Here Sally entered, carrying the meal of the cowpuncher,
arranged it, and then sat on the edge of Bard’s
table, turning from one to the other as a bird on
a spray of leaves turns from sunlight to shadow and
cannot make a choice.
“Bard,” stated Nash, “is going out
to the ranch with me to-night.”
