“Drift,” Jerry advised. “There's moral diseases just as catching as smallpox. This part of the country has been settled up by men that came here first because they wanted to hide out. They've slipped into darn crooked ways, and the rest has either followed suit or quit. All through this rough country. It's the same-over in the Black Rim, across Thunder Mountains, and beyond that to the Sawtooth, a man that's honest is a man that's off his range. I'd like to see you pull out—before you're planted.”
Bud looked at Jerry, studied him, feature by feature. “Then what are you doing here?” he demanded bluntly. “Why haven't you pulled out?”
“Me?” Jerry bit his lip. “Bud, I'm going to take a chance and tell you the God's-truth. I dassent. I'm protected here because I keep my mouth shut, and because they know I've got to or they can hand me over. I had some trouble. I'm on the dodge, and Little Lost is right handy to the Sinks and—Catrock Canyon. There ain't a sheriff in Idaho that would have one chance in a thousand of getting me here. But you—say!” He faced Bud. “You ain't on the dodge, too, are yuh?”
“Nope,” Bud grinned. “Over at the Muleshoe they seemed to think I was. I just struck out for myself, and I want to show up at home some day with a stake I made myself. It's just a little argument with my dad that I want to settle. And,” he added frankly, “I seem to have struck the right place to make money quickly. The very fact that they're a bunch of crooks makes my conscience clear on the point of running my horse. I'm not cheating them out of a cent. If Jeff's horse is faster than Smoky, Jeff is privileged to let him out and win if he can. It isn't my fault if he 's playing to let me win from the whole bunch in the hope that he can hold me up afterwards and get the roll. It's straight 'give and take'—and so far I've been taking.”
Jerry worked for a while, moodily silent. “What I'd like is to see you take the trail; while the takin's good,” he said later. “I've got to keep my mouth shut. But I like yuh, Bud. I hate like hell to see you walking straight into a trap.”
“Say, I'm as easily trapped as a mountain lion,” Bud told him confidently.
Whereat Jerry looked at him pityingly. “You going to that dance up at Morgan's?”
“Sure! I'm going to take Honey and—I think Mrs. Morris if she decides to go. Honey mentioned it last night. Why?”
“Oh, nothing.” Jerry shouldered his fork and went off to where a jug of water was buried in the hay beside a certain boulder which marked the spot. He drank long, stopped for a short gossip with Charley, who strolled over for a drink, and went to work on another row.
Bud watched him, and wondered if Jerry had changed rows to avoid further talk with him; and whether Jerry had merely been trying to get information from him, and had either learned what he wanted to know, or had given up the attempt. Bud reviewed mentally their desultory conversation and decided that he had accidentally been very discreet. The only real bit of information he had given Jerry was the fact that he was not “on the dodge”—a criminal in fear of the law—and that surely could harm no man.