“Good horse you got there,” Barker said, with a country-bred man’s interest in animals. “Mighty good shoulders.”
“You bet!” was the deputy’s hearty response. “Good for all day, too.”
“I raised him myself,” he went on, “and he’s standard bred, too, Daystar, out’n an Alcantara mare.” He spoke with proper pride, as the owner of a good horse may.
“They raise some fine stock back in Iowa,” Barker remarked, and his companion’s fount of speech seemed suddenly to run dry. Barker waited, expectant, for some little time.
“Where are we going to hit the railroad?” He asked, at last.
“The railroad?” Arnold looked puzzled.
“Westcott said you’d land me where I could get the train east,” the other explained. “He said you had the price of a ticket for me. It’s all on the level, ain’t it?” he demanded, his voice going higher.
“Oh—Oh! yes, yes! It’s all fixed. Don’t you worry none.” The bronze of the deputy’s face crimsoned.
“Don’t you worry none,” he repeated, with a glance at the sky.
An ominous cloud lowered, overhead. The sun was hidden, and the air had grown chill. A fit of coughing had followed Barker’s flash of excitement, and he crouched in his seat, shivering slightly.