“I can tell yuh where t' find Conroy, Rowdy. He's working for an outfit down on the river. I'd sure fix him for this! Yuh got plenty of evidence; you can send him up like a charm. It was different when he cut your latigo strap in that rough-riding contest; yuh couldn't prove it on him. But this—why, man, it's a cinch!”
“I haven't lost Harry Conroy, so I ain't looking for him just now,” growled Rowdy. “So long as he keeps out uh reach, I won't ask no more of him. And, Pink, I wish you'd keep this quiet—about him having Chub. I told Rodway I couldn't put him next to the fellow that brought that bunch across the line. I told him the fellow went north and got killed. He did go north—fifty miles or so; and he'd ought to been killed, if he wasn't. Let it go that way, Pink.”
Pink looked like a cherub-faced child when he has been told there's no Santa Claus. “Sure, if yuh say so,” he stammered dubiously. He eyed Rowdy reproachfully, and then looked away to the horizon. He kicked the rock out of place, and then poked it painstakingly back with his toe—and from the look of him, he did not know there was a rock there at all.
“How'd yuh happen to run across Rodway?” he asked guilelessly.
“I stopped there last night. I got to milling around in that storm, and ran across the schoolma'am that boards at Rodway's, She was plumb lost, too, so we dubbed around together for a while, and finally got inside Rodway's field. Then Chub come alive and piloted us to the house. This morning Rodway claimed him—says the brand has been worked from a Roman four. Oh, it's all straight goods,” he added hastily. “Old Eagle Creek here knew him, too.”
But Pink was not thinking of Chub. He hunched his chap-belt higher and spat viciously into the snow. “I knowed it,” he declared, with melancholy triumph. “It's school-ma'amitis that's gave yuh softening uh the vitals, and not no Christian charity play. How comes it you're took that way, all unbeknown t' your friends? Yuh never used t' bother about no female girls. It's a cinch you're wise that she's Harry's sister; and I admit she's a swell looker. But so's he; and I should think, Rowdy, you'd had about enough uh that brand uh snake.”
“There's nothing so snaky about her that I could see,” defended Rowdy. He did not particularly relish having his own mental argument against Miss Conroy thrown back at him from another. “She seemed to be all right; and if you'd seen how plucky she was in that blizzard—”
“Well, I never heard anybody stand up and call Harry white-livered, when yuh come t' that,” Pink cut in tartly. “Anyway, you're a blame fool. If she was a little white-winged angel, yuh wouldn't stand no kind uh show; and I tell yuh why. She's got a little tin god that she says prayers to regular.”
“That's Harry. And wouldn't he be the fine brother-in-law? He could borrow all your wages off'n yuh, and when yuh went t' make a pretty ride, he'd up and cut your latigo, and give yuh a fall. And he could work stolen horses off onto yuh—and yuh wouldn't give a damn, 'cause Jessie wears a number two shoe—”
“You must have done some rimrock riding after her yourself!” jeered Rowdy.