“Till he gets out,” supplied Crosby, with prompt intelligence.
“Well, yes—till he gets out,” assented the other mildly.
Crosby’s eyes followed Pearsall’s across the tremendous sweep of green pastures. He knew well what was in the manager’s mind.
“Comes in mighty good. I brought you something worth while this time, didn’t I? Well, so long! I got to pull my freight.”
He walked away down the long line of box elders to his patient mules. Left behind, the old man stood murmuring over and over: “Twen-ty—sev-en—hun-dred—cat-tle! Twen-ty—sev-en—hun-dred! Why, Pettie, it looks like a hand stretched right down to a drowning man. For, as sure as my name’s Pearsall, I didn’t know whichaway to turn this spring.”
“And we’re to keep the cattle how long, Uncle Hank?”
The old man took out the penciled scrawl, and she read with him:
El Capitan, Sandoval Co., Texas,
March 28, 18—.
Mr. dere Hank Pearsall,
Ime in a little trubble and I write to know if you are thare at the Sorers if so would like to have you come imedietly and git my bunch of catel. Ime in a little trubble. he was a poplar man and the jury was pretty strong for hanging but my lawyer was a good one and I will be glad if you can come imedietly. Thare is 2700 of the catel most all grade Herefords and you can keep them on the Sorers thare till I get out that will be four years and I know Hank you will do right by me. my lawyer is pade and I want to see the catel in your Hands before I go and I will be glad to see you imedietly the sooner the better.