Rock nodded.
“I know the tribe. They’s four boys—all big—all inclined to be high-handed. Le’s see. There’s Joe, Elmer, Ed, an’ Mark. Elmer’s handlin’ this herd yo’-all are with?”
Again Rock nodded.
“Elmer ain’t bad. Joe’s noisy, but harmless. Ed is real tough. Mark’s both noisy and mean. He always aimed to be bad, unless he’s changed a heap lately. He’s big as a house. Overbearin’ accordin’ to his size.”
“Mark’s trail hand with this Seventy Seven herd,” Rock said.
“Huh? If Elmer’s startin’ No’th with that handicap, he’ll have trouble on the trail, I reckon. Ought to have more sense than have that disturber in his outfit. I don’t expect yo’ and Mark love each other, eh? No, I shouldn’t imagine yo’d want to stay with the Seventy Seven after the drive’s over, not if yo’ got to rub elbows with Mark. He sure is the wrong kind.”
“Maybe not even all the way,” Rock said casually. “Mark’s inclined to ride me. No particular reason. Just don’t like me, I expect.”
“Better quit the Seventy Seven, son,” Sayre counseled after a moment’s silence. “There’s other herds drivin’ No’th that need good men.”
Rock shook his head. A little smile flitted across his face.
“Would you?” he challenged. “Just to get away from a man that don’t like the shape of your head, or something? Would you, Uncle Bill, after you’d promised a trail boss you’d go?”