It was with little zest that he collected petrified yucca for his campfire, fed rolled barley to his horse, and picketed him. Squatting over the coals, he fried bacon and made “cowboy’s bread” in the grease. A cup of strong black coffee finished his meal. Not ten minutes afterward he was rolled in his blankets.
For a little his dull senses were aware of the close-by maudlin laughter of a pair of coyotes up in the buttes; then the sounds blended with his dreams and he was fast asleep.
He awoke with a start, shook his head, sat up straight. He was vaguely aware that he was not alone. The fire had died down and only the light of the stars served to reveal several indistinct bulks blacker than the general blackness of the night. He made an attempt to spring to his feet, but found his legs unresponsive and toppled over on one elbow.
A chuckle offered him derisive applause. “They’re tied together, Doctor,” said a faintly familiar voice. “I just rolled the blankets off your feet and tied your ankles, and you didn’t move a muscle.”
“Morley, eh?” said the doctor calmly. “Well, Morley, what’s it all about? Sore about something—you and your partner?”
“Not at all,” Morley replied. Then to Leach: “Stir up the fire and let’s have a cup of coffee before we start.”
Another dark bulk moved from the collection of shadows, and now Shonto realized that horses and burros comprised the greater part of the group. The fire blazed up after a little, and objects became more distinct.
Smith Morley squatted on his heels.
“I’ll tell you, Doc,” he said. “Leach and I are up against it. We’re flat broke and miles from our headquarters. In you we’ve found an opportunity to get out of our difficulties. So you’re the goat.”
“Well, let’s have it. Am I to be shot at sunrise or as soon as we’ve had the coffee?”