Pinkey's face lengthened.
"I hadn't thought of that."
For an instant they felt crushed. It was such a precipitous descent to earth after their flight.
They walked to the cabin, and saddled in a silence which was broken finally by Pinkey, who said vindictively:
"I'd rob a train to git money enough to turn fifty head of dudes loose on Canby. He'd be mad enough to bite himself. If he could help it he wouldn't have a neighbour within a hundred miles."
Wallie's thoughts were bitter as he remembered the many injuries he had suffered at Canby's hands. It was a subject upon which he dared not trust himself to talk—it stirred him too much, although he had long ago decided that since he was powerless to retaliate there was nothing to do but take his medicine. As he made no response, Pinkey continued while he tightened the cinch:
"If you could make a dude ranch out o' this and worry him enough, he'd give you about any price you asked, to quit."
"I'd ask plenty," Wallie replied, grimly, "but it's no use to talk."
"It wouldn't trouble my conscience none if I hazed a bunch of his horses over the line, but horses are so cheap now that it wouldn't pay to take the chance."
"There's the Prouty Bank," Wallie suggested, ironically.