“Oh, shut up! Tell me what the law is?” Westcott’s tone was brutal. “You blamed fool,” he said, “Do you think I can’t get along without you?”
“I ain’t sech a fool’s some,” was Broome’s retort, “I know you can’t, er you wouldn’t be here. You want me to help find the spot, an’ you know it.”
“There’s no use fighting over it,” said Westcott, more moderately; “I was going to Tucson this afternoon; but I’ll go up to Phoenix first. Mind you, now,” he added, “No funny business while I’m gone, or it’ll be a bad day for you.”
Sandy Larch heard Westcott ride away. A moment later Broome’s step sounded, returning to quarters.
The foreman waited some time before venturing out. When he did come into the light his face wore a strange, half-dazed expression.
“Well!” he finally ejaculated, “I sure got my money’s worth that time.”
He walked over to one of the corrals and stood staring with unseeing eyes at a bunch of yearlings huddled together in a corner.
“The dangnation fools!”
His exclamation seemed to afford him no relief; for presently he repeated it.
“The dangnation fools!”