“That’s the way, then!” exclaimed the other, raising his clenched fist and shaking it. “You get put on that detail, Ratty.”
“I’ll see you blessed first,” declared the puncher, laughing. “I don’t see nothing in it but trouble for me.”
“No trouble for you at all. They didn’t get you before.”
“No,” said the puncher. “More by good luck than good management. I don’t like going things blind, Pete. And you’re always so blamed secretive.”
“I have to be,” growled the other. “You’re as leaky as a sieve yourself, Ratty. I never could trust you.”
“Nor nobody else,” laughed the reckless puncher. “Sam’s about got my number now. If he ain’t the gal has—”
“You mean that daughter of the old man’s?”
“Yep. She’s an able-minded gal–believe me! And she’s just about boss of the ranch, specially now the old Cap is laid by the heels for a while.”
The other was silent for some moments. Ratty gathered up the reins from the backs of the tired ponies.
“I gotter step along, Pete,” he said. “Gal’s gone to telephone for the medical sharp, who’ll show up on Number 20 when she goes through Jackleg. I’m to meet him. Or,” and he began to chuckle again, “José Reposa was, and I took his place so’s to meet you here as I promised.”